Dash Does Kathmandu

Hundredth

2009-07-20T07:48:00.000+05:30

It was going to be a very fortunate turn of events. I was going to be able to post my 100th Dash Does Kathmandu post on my very last day in Kathmandu. Ironically, that day we were plagued by power cuts, the origin of which no one really understood. "Is it Load Shedding Raj?"
"Load Shedding hoina, I don't know what it is Rob."

There you have it. My last meal at the Lazimpat Gallery Cafe and Raj finally uses my name instead of "sir".

My last day was filled with insane activity. I wanted to deliver Bejoy-guru (my Nepali teacher) a gift of white tea from China (apparently there is one type that is his favourite, not sure whether I found that one or not). I made a clothes delivery run to Rinzi's orphanage and managed to avoid being dragged in for a meal. To do all this I borrowed Sascha's bike and got myself horribly sunburnt on my final run through the mental streets of Kathmandu. I ran in to work to say my final goodbyes, deliver Chinese presents and steal all of my 2.6 GB of computer files I had collected over the course of the year.

This blog has now done its Dash. Plenty of humbling lessons. Plenty of fabulous friends (as mentioned beore, there is more than one for every day I have spent in Nepal). Beautiful countryide. Beautiful people.

Too many nights with Charpi. Too many goodbyes. Too many friends that I may never see again.

Goodbye Nepal. Good times were had.

What's the Chinese word for Exhaustion?

2009-07-10T07:39:00.001+05:30

You know how every time someone goes to the Great Wall of China, they go on about how "Great" it is? "It's wider than a road...it's amazing....its not believable!"

Well, It's wider than a road...it's amazing....its not believable...humongous...its EPIC!

I somehow, after seeing many many photos and reading what is probably a great amount about it over the course of my life, still did not grasp the enormity of it. Along the ridges of the beautiful naturally defencive hills north of Beijing the walls slinks up and down at horribly steep angles. Angles that defy quadriceps, belief and the tons of rock that are sitting there to prove me wrong. The most amazing thing is how it keeps going as far as you can see.

I likened the moment I saw it to that moment when I first saw the grand canyon. No amount of talking, writing or photograping can make anyone truly understand how great a wonder it is. Any bandit or marauder insane enough to have a crack at scaling it had to be desperate or in greater fear of his master than of death itself, which is probably a testament to how scary some of the big bad guys they had in the olden days. It's (see Mum I do know how to use apostrophe 'S') amazing what you can achieve with 4 bazillion megatons of rocks, and a limitless army of serfs to do your bidding.

We walked along the 8 km stretch from Jinshaling to Simatai after a hair raising early morning adventure to get there. I apologise if you live anywhere in the vicinity of our hostel as we walked down the street at 6 in the morning swearing and yelling at each other for our lack of communication regarding the the day's (did it again) plans. Catching subways, buses and negotiating with taxi drivers when all you know how to say in Mandarin ir "Yes", "No", "Thankyou" and "I don't want" is something of a test on already fried nerves I can tell you. I actually think that I only learnt "Yes" and "No" part way through the day.

Beijing is fairly simple to get around, if you have a thick skin and are prepared to work hard using every communication skill in your bag of tricks. After yesterday's (haha!) trip I actuly understand why I met some people that came to Nepal who hated every second of it. Any time you need something, someone somewhere is probably trying to take advantage of you. That's really a little bit unfair, but I can understand if people in Nepal, who don't speak any of the language and are a little unsure of how much you should be spending on things feel like people are out to get you.

That said, we had a great time on the wall, our legs are screaming abuse and profanities at us although we still have another day to spend ion Beijing. One more in Macau, one in Hong Kong, a lightening tour back through Kathmandu and I'll be seeing you all soon.

Chinni Chaina! (No Sugar!)

2009-07-08T21:57:00.001+05:30

Street food in Bangkok, rooftops of Hong Kong. Met up with Archie (Rob), Poccy (Pat) and Megan Lui.

Made it to China...stop

Can't access Facebook, Blogger, or Skype...stop

Love to fam...iends..op

Conn...must...soon...stop

At the Last Minute

2009-06-29T22:20:00.002+05:30

So just as I was starting to think (ok worry) that the guys at work were gonna let me go with completely no fanfare at all, Mohan busted in on me and Khem during a meeting this morning and told him to make sure he was free at 6pm tonight for a party for Rob.

I said, "what's happening at 6?".

Mohan took a step back, and goes, "you understood me?"

"Yeah, my Nepali's not that bad. Come on, I've been here for a year. What's going on?"

"We are organising a program for you tonight."

He actually had to idea where were were going. But it seemed that more and more people knew about it. But no one was talking. I wasn't sure whether it was because they didn't want me to know or because nobody actually knew. I left work early because I have been ffeeleing a little sick and wanted to get better before leaving for Hong Kong, but I made sure that Mohan or Nhukesh would call me to let me know where I was supposed to go.

I passed out pretty soon after getting home and woke up at 5.45 with no missed calls and no clue where to go. I called Nhukesh, but mobile phone in Nepal make it impossible to understand even English speakers, let alone English speakers with broad Nepali accents. I eventually found the Marco Polo Hotel, which was the only thing I understood from out conversation. I called again and he told me to go tot he Windmill Restaurant, its well known and very close.

I spent the next half hour searching to the south and east and not a single person knew what I was talking about. Its amazing how when you really need people to understand you that you can't construct an intelligible sentence in Nepali nor can they speak any English at all.

Finally I did a loop back and found Mohan and Krishna standing almost outside the Marco Polo, and they led me out the back to the Wind BELL Restaurant. I mean, what the hell is a WINDBELL anyway?

Inside Dr Reeta, Dr Govinda, Nabin-daai and Khem-daai were already waiting. More of the guys slowly joined us until altogether there were about 20 of my TIlganga friends there. It wasn't long before KHem-daai was pouring me whiskeys and demanding that I have more. In true Nepali style the snacks kept coming and coming and coming. I knew I had to pace myself as a big meal of Daal Bhaat was just around the corner waiting for me to have one momo too many before making its appearance.

Bikram, who we discovered yesterday is 2 years my elder (much to his surprise), found out that I am partial to the occaisional beer. I have always found him to be so professional and curt, very strict in his conversations and not very likely to laugh, or smile. He apologised. "Rob, I am so sorry, if I knew that you liked to drink I would have had you over to my house. I didn't think you drinked." So there you go. 12 months, in almost the same office and bad communication had led us to believe that one may not want to be friiends with the other.

We got some great photos and they presented me with the most amazing present. A map of the disctricts of Nepal, in a beautiful model Nepali window (they have some of the most amazing wooden architecture adourning windows in Nepal). It is obnoxiously heavy, and I hope I can get it home OK, but I really do love it.

Nhukesh also gave me a special present, a rather smaller version of the above with a photo of us during the Festival Jatra in his village.

I had the most amazing impromptu night and I really hope my colleagues and friends realise how much I have appreciated them this year. They are such a great group of people.

Tapaailaaiharu dheri dhanyabaad!

Ma American hoina

2009-06-26T17:30:00.003+05:30

For God's sake. I went to the Chinese embassy this morning to collect our visa's and passports. After going through 2 levels of security and waiting for 15 minutes I find out that you can only collect passports from 3 in the afternoon.

Returning at 3 I waited in an entirely empty room waiting for someone to notice that I existed. When they did notice I went to the "pickup window" but was ushered to the one next to it that was labelled something else. Fine whatever, there's one guy on the other side of the glass, what do I care? He gave me a printout that said I had to pay them 66USD quiet as a churchmouse. Annoying as it is to constantly be given costs in US dollars I have unfortunately become accustomed to it. I took this to a seperate window where I was informed that I had to, in factm PAY in USD. THere is also an additional 2USD "handling charge".

The most infuriating this about this is that Nepali citizens can pay in Nepali rupees! I mean of all the insane shenanigans. "Tell you what, tell me the exchange rate, I'll work it out and I'll pay you in rupees." The cheerful Nepali guy about 7 years younger than me said "Not possible sir, you must pay in dollars."

"Tara ma American hoina! But I'm NOT AMERICAN! I don't wander around with US dollars in my pockets! What am I supposed to do???"

Apparently, what I am supposed to do is go to Thamel and buy some US dollars to pay for our visas. I simply cannot comprehend why it must be this way. Are the workers at the Chinese Embassy / Consulate or whatever you call it going to go on a big trip to America to go and eat pizza on Broadway? Why in the hell would they want USD? Here I am in the Chinese Embassy, there's a mute Chinese man on one side of presumably bullet proof glass, there's one 18 year-old Nepali demanding money from me in a currecny I don't have, haven't seen since 2005 and which I am developing a rather serious hatred for. I even hate it when people call the stuff "greenbacks".

But here I am with no other option than to get the money as the Chinese government has our passports. So I go, I get the exact amount I was told I would need in USD at an annoyingly high exchange rate (the universe is conspiring again...) and return. Nepali dude it all smiles as he says "Ummmm...sir you are picking up two passports? That means there are two handling fees".

TWO HANDLING FEES! What does that $4 go to, can you imagine? Perhaps changing that money from USD to Chinese Yuen or Nepali Rupees I bet. What the hell is going on?

In an amazing turn of fortunes a new Nepali guy had arrived and magically procuded a $2 note from his pocket. I bought it off him and left with another docket that I had to return to the bulletproof glass and hopefully use to get our passports back. This time someone was actually at the pickup window. I went there only to be ushered again to the mute Chinese lad who printed something else out, went to find our passports from the pile sitting at the Pickup Window. As the older gentleman who was actually seated there watched on in approval. The mute lad signed some forms and checked some stuff all while walking around the older man who continued to watch in avid fascination before mute boy then returned to me, silently gave me our passports and I left.

To this moment I'm not entirely sure what happened but I hope someone was watching me the whole time having a good laugh.

Monsoon is Come

2009-06-25T17:01:00.002+05:30

Three weeks of waiting. It has been driving me bonkers. You may choose to blame my recent irritibility on the sudden lack of living space I have developed since my brtoher moved in. You may choose to blame it on the fact that no one had any work for me until the month before I left. I choose the blame it on the fact that it has been stinking hot, occaisionally overcast but never raining and that monsoon has been pending for 3 weeks.

Well it arrived today and in amazing fashion. 5 minutes prior to me leaving work the heavens opened up with all manner of cats and dogs whining, barking and screeching their way through the sky to come crashing down all around us. It was like a cyclone. Perhaps if you are a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor then you will disagree. I mean, the only experience I had of any of those is that the price of bananas went up to $12/kilo for about 6 months. But this was insane, like nothing you have ever seen (assuming of course that you are not a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor). There were no rain drops, just sheets weighing metric f-tonne's and washing everything in sight away.

The brief 2 second dash from the carpark to the front gate through the sheets of cyclone-like rain had myself, Swifty and my bag completely drenched. Quite astutely I decided against riding home, and subjecting Reeta-didi to washing mud slash poo slash whatever other refuse is kicked up off the ground in a storm from my clothes. Plan was to a) find a taxi with a roof rack for my bike or b) the staff bus to get me and Swifty home.

The bus driver, who up unto this point (about 49 weeks into my experience) has done a bang-up job of not being able to speak much English at all, told me that the bus would be going the long way today and that would have to be dropped off last in the best English I have heard this side of the equator. With the other option being a ride through mud and muck, I said I didn't mind.

As the sweat from the heat and the water soaking my clothes started blending and giving me that uncomfortable itchy sensation you always get when you are wet and don't want to be, we started weaving our way along the Ring Road (which BTW looks exactly the same no matter what part of town you are in) and dropping off staff, Swifty up the back like a king on his horse. I watched as we took on tuk-tuks head on on the wrong side of the road along the (predominantly dry) streets. But inside the Ring Road was another story. As started heading north through town the sewers were showing their protest to 8 (dry) months of abuse in the form of trash and other waste matter being shoved down them at any opportunity. I saw motorbikes parked on the side of the road being washed away as the gutters turned from lumps of concrete to white water rapids (except that the water was brown and gross).

People stumbled along with umbrella's useless against the deluge and every man and his spade was out trying to clear gutters and sewers to try and stop the rising water level from entering their shops.

Monsoon is back and it feels exactly like it did when I arrived a year ago.

Dear Dot Dot Dot...

2009-06-23T21:13:00.003+05:30

Dear,

Charpi, thanks for the good times buddy. When I eventually leave, I will mention to the landloard that maybe you should be retired or at least fixed. Its nothing personal, but really, wetting yourself and the bathroom every time you don't been so good gets old.

Ganga, thanks for helping to improve my Nepali tirelessly and explaining what all the bandh's are about. And thanks for the political insights. I will always remember the Ilam First Flush.

Smiling Kiosk Dude, our conversations never went much further than our special handshake and 'how are you?'. You are a crazy entertaining guy. Sometimes, that special handshake was just what I needed. Keep it up.

Grumpy Fruit Man, eventually, I got you to smile. Remember that, turn that frown upside down!

Nawuraj, nothings news. Not today, but thanks for asking...every....day.

Mohan, no I'm not finished. Not yet.

Bhojaraj, thanks for the kiss. I didn't ask for it, but I know you enjoyed it none-the-less.

Happy Fruit Granny, BI! Bye-bye. Bye-bye....bye.

To the hundreds of people I have met in this last year. I can't describe it. Thanks team.

Dear,

Shorts, I can't wait to see you again.

Power/Electricity, I swear I won't take you for granted again.

Grass, I can't wait to feel you between my toes.

Ocean, counting down the days till I see you.

Australia, see you soon.

EEEEEEP

2009-06-22T08:21:00.002+05:30

There are seven days left. There are easily more than five activities, but I have had to cut down to just five. And here they are with a short description as on my TO DO list:

Dr Surman - co-author a paper on glaucoma without having seen the concept paper, the questionnaire or had a say in how the data was collected before becoming involved. In the remaining week, perhaps I will just help with the preparation of the manuscript and wait for the hard work once I am back home.

Dr Raba - prepare results on Age Related Macular Degeneration where once again my advice on data collection was ignored and I have been left with a horrible horrible mess to make some sense of. But she did take me and Tim out to her house for lunch the other day to say thankyou. [incidentally, her husband Dr Kiran works at Jess' hospital so we refer to them as 'my doctor' and 'her doctor']. My doctor and her doctor's kids are very shy, but cute and the little one has a car with only 2 wheels - really, its miraculous it goes anywhere...wait, this isn't about them.

Cost-Analysis - where I work trying to say how two eye clinics will be cost-effective in 15 years. It's kind of a long period of time so a demented monkey could probably do it. But I'm struggling.

PPVA - where we look at how blind people are before having cataract surgery. And then we compare them, and make such strange recommendations as "if we take services away from these people, we can give it to these people". It really makes you feel good.

My Report - so I have been here for a year. And I sort of need to say to everyone "HEY! Look what I did." Unfortunately, its so far down on the to-do pile that the place will fall down before I get to doing it. Add to that, probably no one will read it. So I guess the universe evens out and I shouldn't stress that much that it might not get done.

My Last Resort

2009-06-12T23:49:00.006+05:30

I told you about the bandas the other weekend. I didn't get the chance to tell you about our fantastic weekend. Rather than just sit listening to music, this time our visit to The Last Resort took in Canyoning and a High Ropes course I have wanted to try for months.

I remember reading about Canyoning in the Lonely Planet this time last year. When I was on a plane back to Australia from Italy. I was so excited. Waterfalls, abseiling, rock climbing, hidden areas you couldn't access any other way. I'm glad I did it, but I have to be honest, the experience itself was a little underwhelming. Kind of just like abseiling, but your shoes get wet.

[Rosie's already gone! AAAAAAHHHHHHH!]

Not like the ropes course. This was an amazing activity. This was one of the last weekends that I was going to have a chance to spend with a group of my friends together. Over the past and coming weeks, people have started to disappear. They are going home. Somehow I managed to land myself in a crowd that are all leaving within a month of each other.

I was paired with Sanjana, a great experience as we have never really had much one on one time. She was so nervous at the beginning. "No Rob. I can't do it, go without me!". At that point we were about 1 metre from the ground. As we approached the end she jumped onto the last platform and gave me a low (she's short) five. She made it through 7 stations, including one where I pretty much dropped her. Luckily we're still friends...

We were all so proud she made it. On the way back to Kathmandu in the bus, you should have heard her chattering away to her mother, telling her all about wht she had just accomplished.

[Flo and Ulli, the intrepid Austrian adventurers]

The bus ride back (after the banda business) provided one of the greatest feelings and views I have had here. As the sun set in the west, we could see 2 mountains ranges distinctly to the north and north-west. The sun had set over the rest of Nepal, but it was still dancing over the tops of the mountains to the north. Gradually, the north-western mountains became cast in shadow. For about 45 minutes, as our bus twisted left and right, climbing the hills to get back to Kathmandu, I craned my neck this way and that. Resting against the window when they were on my side, straining in my seat, and shifting the eggplants nestled between my legs (remember we took a bus that was free as a result of the banda, turns out it was delivering supplies to the Last Resort) so I could get a view when they were on the other side.

I briefly contemplated getting out my camera and making a feeble attempt to get a photo. They were too far away, and nothing, no photo or description could do the scene justice. Immediately words came into my hed to describe it, and the feeling I had just then. But even as they came to me I could feel them slipping away as I got closer to those Himals even as they got further away.

The time I saw the sun set below the clouds in Perth and rise again below them only to set over the ocean again wasn't as good as this. That time we were 4x4'ing in Moab, and above the desert of Utah you could see the snow covering the mountains. It was cool. But it wasn't this. That time we spent Australia Day of 2000 on top of Switzerland throwing snowballs at each other. That wasn't this either. Not even floating down the Seine on a houseboat, staring at the sky from the top of our boat.

You have probably heard me go on many times about what these mountains are like. But there really is nothing like them. Nothing in Australia, anyway. You have no idea how frustrating it is to know that if there was no pollution or dust in Kathmandu, that you could see these every day. That you could almost throw a rock at them. As it is, we may as well be living in the Sahara for the amount of times I have seen the mountains from my house.

I have lived here for a year, and although it's not my country, I still feel the pride that Sanjana does when she stares out at those beautiful mountains. I am going to miss you Nepal.

[not mine, stole this from here and it simply doesnt do it justice]

"My Country, My Pride"

2009-06-01T15:15:00.006+05:30

"So man, why don't these villagers just kick these rocks off to the side of the road so the buses can get through?"

"Well, these villagers put the rocks there."

"Oh...so if we try to move them they'll get upset?"

"...Yep."

My feeling on bandas is well documented. Imagine my surprise when I find myself wandering along a road next to an American named Chris (I think) explaining the finer details of this particular political stunt. Chris is a man who this time last week was actually standing on the top of Mount Everest which I found really creepy. Impressive, but creepy. In an aside, these guys seem to all be about town at the moment. If you aren't talking to someone who was on top of Everest this time last week then you are talking to someone about someone who was there.

We had just spent another glorious weekend at the Last Resort. Many of my friends will be leaving over the next month and it was kind of like our last hurrah. I organised a weekend of relaxing combined with a little adventure in canyoning and a high ropes course. The crew weren't all that enthused about the idea but tell you what, afterwards they agreed with me. It was LEGENDARY!

I think I will give you more on the activities later, this is yet another banda post. Ironically, on our way home, IN THE SAME TOWN as the banda with the burning tyres with the photo that makes me look guilty and menacing we were stopped by a banda. This one was was so far in progress that 2 dogs were actually taking a nap underneath the bus that was blocking the road. We actually knew about this one ahead of time and as one of the staff (Raju) went to check it out we milled around enjoying the scenery. It had rained enough overnight that we had a beautiful view of the hills around us. The Bote Koshi raging below. And there was the sweet squelching below my feet as I realised I had stood in a rather thick mud puddle.

We collected our backpacks and walked around the two buses parked in the middle of the road. We loaded ourselves onto another bus that was trapped between this banda and the next, and went along our merry way. Liz and Rosie on the roof, Sanjana, Katherine, Rory, Ulli, Flo, Richard, Rhian and myself wedged somewhere between a smelly t-shirt, 400 eggs and a bag of spinach.

We descended from our chariot again to walk through the next banda, and it was here I found myself next to Chris. Kind of ogling at the idea that this guy my age has been standing on top of the world last week. It turns out that the villagers were unhappy that the policemen in town collecting taxes had had a scuffle with someone over his or her willing to or not to pay their tax. I really don't know how you resolve an issue where the people that tell everyone to disperse and break it up (the police) are the people you are protesting against.

My dear Nepali friend Sanjana (who was also my partner through the glorious high ropes course) chimed in to help explain things to Chris. "My Country, My Pride. That's what we say. When I am standing out work looking out the window at the amazing mountains around me I just think, My Country, My Pride. But then I look down, and I see the sewers backing up because no one has collected the garbage in 10 days and I think 'my country, my pride'. This is kind of one of those moments."

It took us 5.5 hours to do a 3 hour bus ride.

Fast forward to today. There is a complete traffic ban. The "Newars" have declared a banda as they want an autonomous Newar state. The Newars are the most populous people in the Kathmandu Valley. I put them in inverted commas because there appears to be a great deal of suspiscion that the Maoists are really creating havoc behind the scenes and pulling the strings. It's kind of like someone declaring that Melbourne be declared an autonomously white-ruled zone.

As I rode to work there wasn't a single car or bus. There were about a total of 10 guys waving red flags trying to get people to band around them but for the most part people were ignoring them (or probably swearing under their breath because they would have to walk for 3 hours to get to work). Their demonstrations definitely lacked the militancy behind any kind of Maoist protest we have seen in the past.

I have got to the point where I now accept bandas as a regular occurence. But they can't expect this one to work...can they?

The Third Gender

2009-05-28T23:02:00.002+05:30

So, I alluded to it in my last post.

The Third Gender.

Does anyone else think that thatmeans the aliens have landed?

According to an article I read in the paper a few days ago, in the 2011 census, the third gender are going to be acknowledged for the first time. People will be able to identify themselves as 'Third Gender'. There will be a 'Male' box, a 'Female' box and a 'Third Gender' box. This is a landslide, a victory in many ways.

According to a random fact Rory threw out earlier today, 15% of Nepali's classify as Third Gender. To me, this is a surprising high number, but perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. What is Third Gender.

From what I understand, Third Gender is a umbrella term to describe "lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex" people. In my brief search I found that 2% of men and 1% of women in Australia identify as homosexual, I have no idea about the others. But at any rate this 15% number intrigues me.

The articles I have read suggest that the Nepali Supreme Court's decision to that the government repeal all discriminatory legislation against the Third Gender is a milestone for the community. I respect that. People have suggested, that even allowing people to identify as Third Gender in the census can help health policy as homosexuals are more at risk from HIV/AIDS etc.

I accept the value to human rights and anti-discrimination. But speaking as a data manager, (currently) a researcher and my general opinion, you can't just lump sexual preference in there with gender. They are two entirely seperate things. I think at the last hospital I worked at there were 5 options fo selecting gender and ZERO for selecting seual preference. Perhaps collection of that type of information would be incredibly useful. The privacy and sensibility of such a move would have to be debated and I have no intention of doing that here.

But as a data manager, the idea that 15% (if that is indeed an accurate number) of people will no longer be listed as male or female in the 2011 census is horrifying. I mean, what the hell will that do to the statistics, TO THE ANALYSIS???? ARGH! It blows my mind. OK, so you get a win in being abe to target health policies towards homosexual PEOPLE (not specifically men) or ttrans-gender or intersex, but you lose the ability to target health policies at do that same thing specifically at both women and men that have also ticked that box. Just because somebody has ticked the box to Third Gender because they are gay doesn't mean that they have changed body parts (they still have genitals). Women are one of the most underserved groups in Nepal (like most of the developing world) if the census (that a great many statistics are based on) don't accurately represent their number in any given population, they how good can any health policy or research be?

Yay to the Third Gender, but perhaps, a more practical implementation of it's meteoric rise?

Security Meeting

2009-05-26T08:57:00.002+05:30

Given the rise in protests and unruly behaviour on the streets of Kathmandu following the resignation of Chairman Prachanda, we had a security meeting. Herewith lie my minutes of said meeting.

Venue: The Lazy Gringo (I recommend the burritto)

Time: Was-meant-to-be-6pm-but-Rob-and-Jess-and-Gemma-and-Dee-come-to-think-of-it-were-late (6.45pm)

Date: 14 May, 2009

Moderator: Rob
Scriber: Jess
Present: Put your hand up if you’re not here. Kat, Gemma and Dee were not present (Gemma and Dee came soon enough though)

The group waived reading of the previous meeting’s minutes as there were none. As everyone had read Susan’s email with security questions, reading of that was also waived. For completeness’ sake, they are included here (but there’s nothing really funny in that part).

“Susan understands the security information that she is providing is still not very good. She is now on an sms link, and will be providing more pertinent updates throughout the day, thru sms and email.

This coming week she is having a meeting with the UN about being included in the Sitreps, and other UN information about security. She has continually begged for this inclusion since taking on the job in 2007. And it had fallen on deaf ears up until now. She is now receiving more updates on a daily basis from AusAID in Kathmandu.
· How are each of you feeling about the daily activities on the streets of Kathmandu?
· What sort of information are your Host Organisations providing to you?
· Are your Host Organisations willing to let you go home early if Susan instructs you to do so?
· How would your Host Organisations react if Susan told you to stay home for the day?
· Susan will ask you for details on email of your supervisor and counterpart mobile phone numbers, so that if necessary she will inform them that she has instructed you to stay at home
· What are the reactions of your family to the flurry of activities on the streets that they are hearing or reading about?
· In the Sanepa and Pulchowk/Kupondole/Jamsikhel area, are you taking precautions about getting home late at night? (The muggings are continuing).
· What about Lazimpat how is it there?
· What about your homes and flats? How secure are you feeling about your security in the house?
· The buddy system of smsing, has broken down already. If the city really hotted up, would you all agree to fulfil this requirement of sending sms messages for you and your buddies?”

ITEM 1 – Security Updates
The group agreed that although at the beginning information on the situation was hard to come by, Susan’s efforts were very good and they were happy with the information provided. Those working at iNGO’s were getting plenty of information, but those at Nepali NGO’s were not. It was decided that we should share informational emails especially from the UN (and not just the daily jokes).

ITEM 2 – Personal Feelings
The group agreed that the current demonstrations were a frustration but easy to navigate. All you had to do to fit into a crowd was grab a flag, an effigy and start burning stuff. But for the most part, demonstrations were avoided.

ITEM 3 – Going Home Early
Most agreed that Susan was in charge, and if she instructed us to go home there would be no problem. Just to be difficult Avi and Chrissy said that the UN would probably not be happy, but usually they would provide security where required, or would have ordered staff home before instructed by Susan.

The same conclusion was reached for Susan ordering AYADs to stay home for the day.

ITEM 4 – Updated Contacts
Susan requested AYADs to provide updated contact details for our counterparts and supervisors.
ACTION: Change the lightbulb in the bathroom – and then remember to email Susan the updated contacts.

ITEM 5 – Family Concerns
Everyone agreed that our families didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on, where Nepal was or what a Prachanda could do for you in the kitchen.

ITEM 6 – Patan Crime
Those in Patan said they were careful out at night and obeyed strict precautions against getting mugged. Woe betide the mugger that tries to steal Celeste’s ‘Last Cigarette’ (break into a Bon Jovi riff).

At this point, Rob interjected on the conversation and told everyone to shut the feck up as he had a meeting to finish.

ITEM 7 – Lazimpat Crime
What crime? Actually someone tried to steal Rob’s bike and he’s not happy about it. No one in the meeting really cared, so Chrissy went on the mention (via printed email in Rob’s hand) that she never walked alone at night but that we are pretty safe. Lazimpat’s AWESOME! [just like Barney]

ITEM 8 – Buddy System
The group disagreed that the system had broken down but that it was unrealistic to SMS Susan every night. Buddies could check on one another and report in to Susan in the unlikely event that someone was a) dead b) uncontactable or c) hooked up in Thamel on Friday night. There was no plan for buddies hooking up with one another and eloping to Pokhara*

Special thanks to the scribe for scribbling out the minutes (NOT).

Meeting Closure: The meeting was closed at about 7.30-ish, maybe? ‘Closing time - you don't have to go home but you can't stay here’.

*likelihood of event occurring – about 35.4%**
**not sure whether same sex marriage is legal in Nepal***
*** technically gay’s are now labelled as third gender, so potentially its not ‘same sex’****
**** what am I TALKING ABOUT?

Characters >> Kamal

2009-05-23T16:07:00.004+05:30

Kamal was our guide on our recent trip to Langtang and the Gosaikunda. Kamal is one of the most relaxed people I have ever met and a truly skilled, ingenious and resourceful human being.

Before becoming a guide, Kamal went to work (as many Nepali's do) abroad. He hoped to make enough money to send home to his wife so they could live a good life. He signed a contract, and had to pay a fee to the agent for finding him the work, along with his airfare, visas etc. He went with a bunch of other guys all committed to the same thing. They were going to be labourers on a worksite to build a new hospital in Saudi Arabia.

On arrival however, they were forced to sign new contracts, for less than half the pay and poorer conditions than they were expecting. Working it for a few weeks it became clear that Kamal was not going to be making enough money to feed himself, let alone send money home to his wife. He decided to take control.

He started making whiskey and rakshi and selling it on the black market. "I just buy the water bottles, refill them with rakshi, and no one know". Although he probably didn't make mint, he was doing well for himself and was happy that he was able to send money home. I can't remember how long he was at it. His biggest comcern seemed to be getting caught for working illegally, not for selling alcohol. Apparently he got away with that rather easily. "Oh, I am new here, I didn't know". I don't exactly buy that part, but that's how he tells it.

Eventually, that is what he got busted for. He was thrown in jail, and from what I have read, getting a trial or even someone to pay attention to you can be very difficult. "So I grew long beard, very long - I didn't like it". "I tell everyone that I am Muslim, I am not, but they called me the Nepali Muslim! The guys in there looked after me". He made money selling cigarettes and other things people needed (the Morgan Freeman of the Shawshank Redemption) - i have always wondered how someone goes about getting stuff to sell inside a jail, but he didn't really explain. He was still able to send money home apparently, and made more money on the inside than he did selling booze.

After three months, he was released and hightailed it back to Nepal and his wife Laxmi. He worked as a porter and using his ability to raise the best out of any situation worked his way to being a guide and now seems to live quite a comfortable life. He is very proud that his wife runs their tea shop and makes enough bank to look after the daily things while he makes enough money for school fees and books for their beautiful children. He and Laxmi make an odd couple, as they are from different castes, and he constantly fights a battle for acknowledgement with her father. Probably part of the reason he ventured abroad to try and make money.

I've been meaning to tell this story for ages, but was out at their tea shop today and it all came flooding back to me. His daughter Kiran tried to tell me a story, but there were far too many gods for me to keep up with, and she quickly gave up. She did tell a joke that she was very proud of, "there was a patient who loved a nurse. And then the patient gave the nurse an apple. But the doctor also loved her. But the nurse not know the men love with her. And then she asked why the patient gave her apple. He said, 'an apple today make the doctor go away'".

I'm Not Lost

2009-05-17T10:50:00.001+05:30

So many people seem to think that I am here to "find myself". I don't know why. It seems that a lot of people say that maybe because they're not interested in leaving their homes or jobs or families or friendships for a year. They don't understand why someone would be interested in that.

But I'm not lost. I'm not looking for myself and I don't need to find the inner me. I've never really had a problem with knowing who I was or what I wanted in life. Sure there have been time when I haven't known what I was going to do next. I think that's kind of normal. But when I do know what I want I have never really had a problem is making myself go after it.

I don't think that I have left family, relationships, friends, a career or a home behind. My time here has allowed me to grow closer to some friends, learn more about other ones and learn more about myself. Just because I'm not lost doesn't mean that I can't grow and learn and change who I am.

At the moment this place is my home. My flat here doesn't smell like someone else's house that I'm living in, but mine. I know the back streets between here and work better than I did in Ballarat. Its normal to see live chickens and pig carcasses riding on the back of a motorbike. To see goats waiting to be slaughtered at the butcher on the way to work and not see them on the way home. Smiling protesters lighting fire to tyres is just another occurrence to me now.

I've learnt about communication. Not so much how to do it with people with different backgrounds, education and language to myself, but about how I communicate, and the faults in my methods of communication. That's not just at work, but in my personal life as well. In my year long-long distance relationship. With my close friends and my family.

I have been coerced into reading books that I wouldn't have previously looked at twice in a bookshop. They have taught me about Islam, Buddhism, Christianity, development, foreign aid, and what makes for some really horrible writing. I have had the time to do many of the things that I would love to do at home but never get around to because of work and life. I have been learning a new language that 2 years ago I didn't even know I wanted to learn and two years from now may only have uses as an ice breaker in a dinner conversation or as a tourist back here.

By living here I have learnt about Hinduism and Nepali culture, about India, about Tibet. I have made new friends, some that I normally would not have made the time to get to know. Immediately here, you have something in common with another ex-pat. I found about the gloriousness of Hashing. I have become a more interesting and interested person.

Nope, I'm not lost.

Nepali Class

2009-05-13T19:14:00.003+05:30

My Nepali teacher is either the most tolerant man in the world or he swears all the way home. Today we did some revision. Revision of 10 months worth of Nepali class. Below are the sentences he asked me to translate, followed by the English version of what I did in Nepali.

1. Till now, I have not eaten anything.
>>Now I don't eat.

2. Have you been to Australia?
>> You have went to Australia?

3. I am not yet married
>> I have not do wedding.

4. Is Katherine learning French these days?
>>These days, Katherine learn French.

5. What were you doing at 7 yesterday evening?
>> Yesterday evening to at 7 at, you did what?

6. I was thinking of going to India this June.
>> In June, it is my opinion that India I go to.

7. It is hotter today.
>> It is hottest today.

8. Immediately after coming here, we started leaning Nepali.
>> We came here and then Nepali language learn...*&#@% what's the word for start?

9. He always feels tired.
>> He is everywhere happy.

10. He has a bad habit of drinking alcohol.
>> He is a alcohol drinking man.

11. How long have you been working at the hospital?
>> How many years have you been working? DAMN! At the hospital? I mean, How many years have you work at the hospital...I mean... DAMN! How long have you been working at the hospital? [WHEW]

12. Who is this for?
>> Who's is this?

13. He knows how to play chess but he doesn't play.
>>Actually I got that one right -> not bad eh?

Thankyou Bejoy, you are so patient....

Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

2009-05-07T20:23:00.004+05:30

An introduction to the friendly (or not so friendly) horn in your average developing country.

"Toot!" - Hello, I am acknowledging your presence and just letting you know that I have seen you. Also, if you have not yet seen me, I am here.

"TootToot" - Hello, I acknowledge your acknowledgement and am thanking you for the courtesy you afforded me.

"TootTootToot" - No worries, how ARE the wife and kids? Its been so long since little Subas has been to visit.

"BIP!" - Excuse me, I'm coming through.

"BIPbipBIPbipBIPbipBIPbipBIP" - Sorry, my child appears to have taken over control of the steering wheel and is playing with its horn.

"BAAARRRRP!" - You ^*%(^#(* idiot, you're in my way and I almost died trying to miss [hit] you.

"BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRWWWWnnnnnnnnnnnn" - I'M COMING THROUGH THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS AT AN INCREDIBLY FAST SPEED and now i'm gooooooooooooonnnnnnnne"

"DOOTDOODOODLE IDDLYPOP!" [to the tune of A Spoonful of Sugar] - I have too much time on my hands and I have tinkered with my horn (i mean, the one on my my truck) to annoy the living hell out of you!

"DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE-DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE-DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE" - sorry, I think its stuck.

"FFFFNOOOOOOOOORRRRRRHNNNNNN" - Maybe I can make this traffic jam move faster by blowing my horn.

"NGAK NGAK NGAK NGAK" - look at me I have a horn on my rickshaw that sounds like a DUCK [angry mob] "so, if she weighs more than a duck...she's a witch? and therefore? BURN HER!".

"Briiiiiiiing" - I am at the bottom of the food chain and I only have a crappy little bell - ummm... excuse me.

Oh Banda My Banda

2009-05-04T20:47:00.004+05:30

So I was sent home kind of early today, but it wasn't a celebration like one might often expect.

Over the weekend things were kind fo crazy - a huge group of us went away to The Last Resort, a cool little getaway near the Tibetan border for a weekend music festival. As a festival it went off! They have bungy and canyon swinging and high ropes courses and all kinds of adventure. Or you can do what we did and just chill out for a brilliant evening of music.

We spent Sunday lazing away in the sun enjoying some cards and poking fun at one another. Three o'clock rolled up and it was time to leave We spent about 20 minutes at the gate waiting to get across the suspension bridge due to some beurocratic issues, but eventually got on the bus and headed on our way.

Before too long we came to a bruidge upon which was a rather lazy looking group of smiling teenagers, who had just set fire to three or four tyres lying, rather unconveniently, in the middle of the road. Quite pleased with themselves they were waving the flag of whatever political party they happen to be currently associated with, but generally standing around smiling at everyone.

As a general rule I object to bandhs, especially those where people are doing for the simple sake of setting something on fire or as an excuse to take the day off work. This particular one (like many like it this Sunday just gone) were because the Prime Minister recently announced the sacking of the Chief of Army Staff of the Nepal Army. This is big news. Its hard to give the full story, because not only don't I know it, but it's intriguingly complicated and twisted.

To summarise (badly) the Chief was responsible for the integration of the guerilla army into the regular army. Which has to be about as much fun as integrating toothpicks to you behind. Suffice to say, they have always hated each other and there's no love lost right now. Apparently, the President disagrees with the reasons for the sacking and has announced that the PM's word doesn't count. It's very difficult to really know who to listen to as Nepal is still without a constitution, so the powers held by certain positions are a little unclear.

The only thing that is certain is that you know you can rely on this story as I heard it from Liz who heard it from the guy on the bus who heard it from a reliable source that heard it from his cousin's husband's concubine's cat. Who in turn heard it from the mouse he ate for breakfast.

The big news is actually that at 3pm today, Monday 4 May, 2009, the PM addressed the public. This is why many of us were sent home. No one knew what was going to happen at this point. No one knew what he was going to say, and no one knew how anyone else was going to react. As far as security goes, that's a good enough call for me to go home and shut the door. It turns out that he resigned. I heard this from the same source. I really won't know what has actually happened, or what it means until I get to work tomorrow. BUT resigned! It's BIG! I mean, what the hell happens now? For a long time he and the finance minister have threatened to take up their guins again. Against whom, we weren't really certain. A coup (or perhaps anti-coup, I'm not really sure how you can overthrow the government when you are the PM) has been suggested.

I think we just have to wait and see.

[I'm trying to look unimpressed, unfortunately, due to my unfortunate pick of clothes that day,

it seems to appear like I just lit the fire]

Characters > Rory

2009-05-03T20:40:00.004+05:30

The Rormeister is Katherine's boyfriend and has quit his job in the middle of the recession to come hang here with us for the last 3 months of Katherine's year. After that he's gonna return to do a PHD at Yale. Lucky bloke.

He's been here almost a month and pretty much has been sick at any point where one would really rather not. He doesn't make good decisions regarding food.

Rob: Chicken Rory? Really?. You've been on the toilet for 2 days. Why not go with the veg?

Rory: No big cat...I've got a good feeling about this!

Rob: I think you should reconsider.

Rory: Oh, look at this a ham, cheese, toastie.

Rob: Ham, Rory? Really?

Rory: You think no ham hey? Yeah, I suppose that's a good decision. I'm glad you're here man, OK, Raj, just get me an Ice Cream Float.

Raj: Uh, sur, we madea mistake on the menu, we can't do ice cream float, that one is meant to be coffee with ice cream in it.

Rory: Well I don't want that! That sounds horrible. How about a milkshake?

Raj: We can't do milkshake sir, there's no power.

Rory: Damn, I really wanted that too...

Raj: Well, we could do it manually for you.

Rory: Oh no Raj, don't worry about it, get me the ice cream float.

Raj: Sir...the...

Rory: Yeah, yeah, no power, OK. I mean the coffee thing.

Rob: Good decision mate.

Rory: No, its not. I HATE coffee man.

Recently, having suffered a 2 day session of intimate love-making with Charpi, Rory became my self-appointed poo doctor. The man is an expert. He warned me against taking too many drugs to combat it as I'd be stopped up for days. However, after 2 days I was at the point where mainly clear water was making its way out my poop-hole, I thought it was time to put an end to it all. Blocking myself up with immodium (Gastro-Stop) appeared not to be working, until I woke up on Friday.

Rory: I told you not to use that stuff...you'll be a lucky man if you ever get to poop again, man!

Rob: You have no idea what it was like. I couldn't go an hour without running to the toilet!

Rory: Of course I know what it was like. You are talking with a man who has been having his own love affair with the toilet for the better part of three weeks. I actually feel the best today that I have ever felt for my whole time in Nepal. This is really quite a special moment.

Rob: But now I am totally stopped up. I need to go before the music festival this weekend! I can't go riding on a bus for 3 hours like this!

Rory: you should have thought of that before you pumped yourself full of those drugs man. I'm gonna tell you a story. Its a story about the American Dream. The American Dream is the one that just comes out, no effort, thought or exertion need be made on your part. Wiping is purely optional because you don't really need to (but you do anyway). That my friend, is the American Dream. One day, it can be your dream.

I Dread What Will Happen Next

2009-04-28T19:28:00.003+05:30

Life is full of doing those things that your parents always told you not to do. Don't get a tattoo, don't get a piercing, don't drink too much, don't be rude, don't hit your brother, don't taddle on people, don't smoke. I even remember my father telling me not to draw doodles on my school books, because if I was then it meant I most certainly wasn't concentrating on the work.

Perhaps its an inbuilt function that we rebel against our parents. But then, I have done many of those things (not the tattoo) mentioned with no second thought to what my parents taught or wanted from me. Did they put the idea in my head, or would I have done it anyway?

I dread to think what I will do next.

Langtang by Camera

2009-04-22T20:36:00.004+05:30

[took us 6 hours to realise that the driver didn't know there was supposed to be oil in the car]

[I guess there'll be no hot water this morning then?]

[no child, its my camera]

[playing in snow, i never get tired of it]

[Himalayas - word]

[mastered the hill of death]

[Kamal thought he'd check in on the wife and kids]

[still slightly delerious from the hill of death, hair's so long!]

[Jojo pretends to be unimpressed, those aren't clouds kids...]

[in a pathetic attempt to dry my clothes i hang them from the back of my pack during the day...it doesn't work]

[Krishna and Subas borrow our sunnies to avoid snow blindness]

[Clint surveys the Gosaikunda]

[there aren't words]

[our highest point, 4600m - Gosaikunda Pass]

[view from 4600m - Surya Peak ~5000]

Singing in the Clouds

2009-04-19T13:31:00.000+05:30

Dash: What you are about to do means I will lose my work. Do you understand that?

Guy: What?

Dash: You are about to unplug my computer without asking me first.

Guy: ummmmm...[unplugs computer]...[awkward smile]

Dash: Whatever...go nuts [ walks out to make a cup of tea and somehow try to relax]

I just thought you might like to get the events leading up to this entry, just so you know where my head's at. We appear to have moved into a building that is neither complete, safe or comfortable. It turns one's thoughts to better times.

Like perhaps when Lauren and I recently visited Pokhara. One of the highlights was when I ran off the side of a mountain with nothing but a Frenchman named Benoit and a parachute strapped to my back. I was not committing suicide, I was in fact going paragliding and if I could sum it up it one word that would be hol-chocolate-ships-in-an-ice-cream-sundae! Its not everyday that you run off the side of a mountain with a Frenchman named Benoit strapped to your back, in fact, it was an absolute first for me.

We couldn't see any mountains for the pollution but it was great to be up over the lake with the eagles soaring on thermal updrafts We cruised around for half an hour and then dropped 500m straight at the lake in a thrilling couple of seconds. My only warning was '"put yo' 'andz 'ere" and bam. I was screaming like an 8year-old on his first rollercoaster as we rushed toward certain death in a flaming (minus the flames) spiral! ARRRRRGH!

Obviously we didn't die, and we landed with a rather majestic plop next to Lauren and her lunatic Dutchman, who had apparently been singing to the clouds.

Rain on my Parade

2009-04-18T21:56:00.003+05:30

It was so hot. It was totally impossible to concentrate. Our new building isn't finished, but we have still moved into it. We don't have curtains, the guys in my office have some moral objection to opening windows, there's no fan and guys come in an out plugging and unplugging wires into and out of the walls causing my PC to switch itself on and off at regular intervals. With the temperature hovering somewhere around 30 and humidity starting to go through the roof I was losing my mind and was just hoping against hope that it would rain!

In a flash of anger, my mind turned to the Red Dingo Australian restaurant in Patan that serves the most amazing thickshakes you will ever eat in your life. There's nothing like making yourself fat to deal with emotional problems. Following that I stopped in at Puri Sabji place. So I followed up my thickshake that is so disgustingly unhealthy for you that you need a spoon to eat it by chewing on oily bread, fried potatoes and what is mostly oil.

I thought it wouldn't hurt to stop by Rosy's to see if I could get my stereo back for the barbeque we had planned the following day. Bad decision. Rosy was not home. In the time it took to eat my two meals, and stop at Rosy's the weather had turning into something from a movie like the Perfect Storm. At one point I rode through a mini willy-willy without realising it. There was so much dust and wind I had to just shut my eytes and hope that I came out of it the other side. It was so rough on the inside of that thing that I'm surprised I even stayed upright.

That's when the delude began. The rain was so heavy that I started thinking back to that Myth Busters episode where they tried to work out whether you get more wet by sprinting through the rain or by walking. Conclusion? I was out there way too long for it to make a difference. As I pondered whether the water slowly seeping into my mouth was rainwater or gutterwater I realised that it probably didn't really make much of a difference. The streets cleared and many people were caught out by the mini-cyclone that seemed to have gripped Kathmandu with only about one in every 100 people carrying an umbrella. Everyone and everything was out to get me. I even started to wonder if the world was doing it on purpose.

Of course, I made it home safely and realised that I owe myself a lot of money. You see due to me negativity of late, I have instigated a system that Nunny referred to as my "Karmic rupe system" where I owe myself 100 rupees for each negative thought. I think I better even out.

I had the most gorgeous chocloate thickshake at the Red Dingo. O.....M.....G!

Following that, remember Puri Sabji? The food so good that it prompted Brendan and Mike to develop a new system of currency? Where every single item one buys can be broken down into PSU's. Puri Sabji Units. "Are you sure that you want to buy those brand spanking new awesome and gorgeously attractive spectacles? You know, they're worth 100 PSU's. You could feed a family Rob, do you want that on your conscience?" Puri Sabji is also good for other reasons. It takes them no time to prepare and it leaves you completely satisfied! How could one not be satisfied? Its oily bread, potato, oily soya beans all wrapped up in a nice little spicy oil sauce. Pretty much, its like being in heaven. And did I mention? Puri Sabji has created its own currency!!!!

Unfortunately I missed Rosy, but as I struggled through the wind and dust to find my way out from her house I provided endless entertainment for the kids and dogs all well sheltered inside the shops from the storm. Dustkciked up by the insane wind licked at my heels as I desperately tried to get home before the rain began. I was too late, but the pleasing cool - that always comes with rain that was building all day - was such a relief. The roads became mine as cars, tuk tuks and motorbikes disappeared in an instant. I finally got the rain that I have been waiting for for weeks. It has been so hot and dusty it was such a relief to get a drop of rain. It brought back some memories of monsoon when I first arrived and was such a novice around here.

I made it home drenched, but full, content and could hear the pitter patter of rain on my roof. ahhhhhh

Someone pedantic, work out how much I owe myself will you?

Ta.

Thoughts Over Lunch (Chomper's Troubles)

2009-04-15T19:04:00.003+05:30

Lunch. Chilli. Chow mein. Black spot on the table. Sahuji is washing dishes by the brick wall. Fences, barbed wire. Abandoned machinery. Abandoned country. Nepal.

Everywhere you look there are signs advertising businesses that get you "guaranteed visas" for Australia. The US, the UK. Switzerland. Japan. I've even seen the Phillipines. Visas are not something that can be guaranteed ...anywhere as far as I know. My quick google serach has suggested that getting a student visa for study in Australia could cost you up to $4500 and even then, the Australian Government might decide that you're not up to scratch. There are signs for universities, jobs, permanent residency. Emigration is big business and people will pay truckloads for it.

"Why is your country better than mine?" I have been asked. It wasn't accusatory. It was remarkably innocent. Well I think it was anyway. Yet it still hit me like a persian sword through the belly, and left a marked impression, because it was asked 8 months ago. I had absolutely no idea what to say in response then and I still have no idea now.

You can understand why people want to go to Australia. Its a great place. It offers good universities, well paid jobs, power, water (in most places), roads on which you can fit more than a small bicycle and when it develops a pothole you can guarantee that someone has written an obstinate letter to the council. For the elderly and school aged children, crossing the road doesn't have to be a 5 second course in Darwinism.

Some people will go to Australia to study and bring their skills back here. Some won't, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd suggest that its the minority. As an Australian can you imagine how things would have to be for you to leave your home country just to make a living? Probably not.

Its sad that this is the case, but it is. Is there one thing that we can put our fingers on and say, "if this weren't an issue anymore, poeople could live good prosperous lives in Nepal?" If the government weren't corrupt, if there was power for businesses to thrive, if there was safe (or any) water to clean the dishes and feed the children. If health services were distributed evenly. If the roads were better eliminating, the geographical challenges that seperate vast areas of the country.. Just to think that if the World Health Organisation was really ever serious about "Health for All by 2000" they might have spent 10 minutes hearing about the issues facing Nepal and they might have revised their deadline? Surely there are countries all over the world that have similar issues that are never just going to go away because WHO wishes it so in a feel-good policy.

Don't get me wrong. Many people are thriving despite these setbacks. But many are also suffering. I don't know what my point is. Perhaps its just that I would love to see people going abroad for the experience, or because they want to. Not because they feel they have no options left in their homeland.

April 12, 2009 - Sunday - Day 271

2009-04-12T21:43:00.000+05:30

It's Easter Sunday . I haven't written in more than a month. I have been busy with the guys and Lauren here. But even so, I have definitely had time to write. I have forced down the compulsion to write anything because I don't want to have to confront these feelings.

I let myself get silly drunk last night. I had hoped for a biggish gathering at my place following the Hash. The Hash itself was an epic 2-3 hour death march that Rosie and I had to shortcut for our own sanity. I was hoping for a bit gathering so that I wouldn't be alone long enough to realise that I am alone again for another 3 months. There's a quarter and a bit left to this assignment and while part of me finds it very easy to deal with that and why I want to see it out, another part of me thinks that first part is totally insane and tries to talk him out of it.

Due to the death marching quality of yesterday's Hash our gathering was a relaxed group of 4, one fighting off nausea, and another fighting an uncontrollable urge to sleep while I determinedly ate too much for my stomach to hold in, between bouts of incessant chattering. The other person was left to flit between the three of us and out rampaging illness, interfering emotions and uncontrollable fatigue/negativity -well not really, but none of us was really glowing with the fantasticness of the run that we just completed.

Today passed in a haze of desperate internet browsing, hangover food, cards, a nap and a 2 or 3 hours of solid reading. All designed for the same thing, the same goal. Don't let the brain have time to think lest dribble like this start pouring from my hand through a pen to paper. I was desperate to find media - movies, music, news - or even gossip from friends back home to distract myself from the horrible realisation that 3 months is still an epic quarter of my assignment and I am living alone.

That, and that the Blues lost by 4 f'ings point to the Bombers yesterday in a clincher I should have been at, at the MCG. Damn the internet and its ability to keep me informed wherever I am in the world.

The Tang of Langtang

2009-04-07T21:20:00.006+05:30

Some of you thought that it would happen. But it didn't. And I wasn't. Or I shan't. Maybe I couldn't. But I don't remember. And who really cares anyway?

Yes, its almost been an epic month since I last posted. I have done so much in that time that my head has been exploding with the bloggability of it all. Let's start at the very beginning (I have it on Julie Andrews authority that its a very good place to start). You all thought that my friends Lauren, Jojo, Naomi, Clint and I were zipping off to Everest Base Camp for a romp in the snow before falling back down the hill again. You'd be absolutely correct. That's exactly what we thought we were doing as well. However Yeti Airlines, did not appear to think that it wasthe best plan in the world. In fact, they were so concerned with the last group of Aussies that they sent there were such a bad omen that they didn't want to send any more and cancelled our flights to Lukla (the most horrifying and probably one of highest air strips in the world) not once but twice.

Catching on that it just wasn't going to happen and obtaining the services of a very bouncy and happy little Nepali guide called Kamal (who has a very interesting life story that I will share another day) we re-organised our trip and decided to head into the Langtang range to the north of Kathmandu instead.

You see, although Everest is very famous, the whole top third of Nepal is Himalaya and there are plenty of other places to go wandering through hills if you really feel like it. Luckily Langtang is accessible by car (well, sort of, there were roads in the parts that hadn't been wiped out by landslides or floods) and is remarkably less touristed than its sister regions Everest and Annapurna.

Day 1, Jojo on a mission to prove to himself that he can do... ummmm stuff like climbing hills almost died as the pollution in Kathmandu had basically turned his lungs into tarpits. Determined to carry his bag all the way, by lunch time Kamal had taken over and was carrying not only Joe's but his own bag as well. As we sat down to our dinner the rain came in and apparently brought some snow with us as it peppered the mountains above us with a beautiful little jacket of white.

Day 2, we got to the actual village of Langtang that was settled by Tibetan immigrants more than 900 years ago if I have my stories straight (which I probably have not). There were a great many children running about our ankles as we investigated the town all with horribly runny noses, dirty faces and wind-blown cheeks.

Apparently there's an Australian bloke that lives there who runs down and back from inside a few hours where we started 2 days before simply to check his email.

Day 3, from Langtang village we crawled up an epic altitude that almost killed Jojo and had Clint speechless on account of altitude sickness at about 3800m from sea level. Kamal and I were going to climb to one of the nearby peaks when a freak snowstorm blew up from Langtang and made visibility impossible.

After a lunch sitting in a freezing dining room with no wood heater to keep us warm we rushed back to Langtang for the relative warmth of our sleeping bags only to be woken in the middle of the night by terrifying winds blowing through the cracks in the wall.

The rest of the days blurred together as I started to forget what day of teh week it was and what the outside world was like. It was beautiful to spend time walking from one teahouse to the next with everything I needed strapped to my back and the beaitiful mountains and jungles we walked through to see.

We came back down from Langtang, much to Naomi and Clint's relief as they were both very poorly from climbing so quickly the day before. The down didn't last long before we started back up towards the east on our way to the Gosaikunda Lakes, a group of beautiful high altitude Himalayan lakes. Lauren always led the pack, charging ahead at times about 20 minutes in front of everyone else. Apparently she got some training in scooting up Mt Buninyong with textbooks in a backpack cos she was afraid of letting everyone else down. In all honesty she just put us to shame.

Death threats were murmured about Kamal as he pushed us to our limits "just 30 minutes more, it couldn't be more than that, I promise" but we always took them back when we reached our destinations. The walking was incredibly hard, but the views were spectacular and I think many of us were pushed beyond what we though were our physical limitations. To quote Jojo "Rob, I'm having the time of my life...I can't lift my arms above my shoulders, but I'm having the time of my life".

Passing the lakes on the coldest night yet we started to see a pattern in the weather. We would get beautiful morning with sunshine fresh snow underfoot and time temperatures. But come 1 o'clock the cloud would set in bringing snow, hail, rain and misery. Our moods always plummetted in the afternoon. At one point I think I was carrying around an extra kilo because of the snow that had accumulated on my pack.

We had two porters, a 19 year old called Subas and a 50 something called Krishna. Both were absolute guns. Carrying Lauren, Naomi and Clint's packs they were absolute machines. Charging ahead of us in the mornings, and always having our rooms ready and waiting for us by the time we arrived of an evening. Krishna was a very pleasant old man, but he really kept to himself. Subas was the real entertainer "Subas? Do you know where the toilet is?"

"OK Mr Rob Daai"

"Yeah, OK. But do you know where the toilet is?"

"OK, OK, OK"

Climbing the Pass after the lakes was the hardest except possibly for coming down them afterward. That's where Clint had an innovative idea. At one point he said "Rob, hold this" and promptly gave me his stick, sat down on his raincoat and toboggoned down the hill. The man is a genius. He even caught up to Lauren who had made a massive head start on us. She turned around at one point to see a large man coming down the mountain at her on his belly screaming like a yeti. Not before he got this cracker of a video of Kamal coming down after him.

There are plenty of other notables, including the Almost But Not Quite Nearly Snow Leopard Sighting (which I swore was really a Yeti), everyone was sick on something except for me, however I made up for that by trying to knee cap myself on a rock whlie walking down a mountain side over what was probably mainly ice. There was the epic Middle of the Night Toilet FAIL (its supposed to go in the hole dufus) among others. But that's enough for now.

Enjoy the photos, and wish jealously that you took up a 12 month volunteer assignment in Nepal.

[for those of you receiving this by email - don't be lazy, visit the blog and actually see the photos, they're wicked!]

Shooting Fish In a Barrell

2009-03-09T16:53:00.006+05:30

A book with a title linking it to a rather epicly cynical life lesson. The Himalayan Book Club's latest effort was:

Unfortunately, again I found this book to be quite disappointing. When I say "again" its not that I read it twice and expected it to be better the second time around, but that this is not the first time I have been disappoo-inted in the promises set forth in a Himalayan Book Club book.

Fantastic premise.

In a "note to the reader", the author describes how she stumbled into an odd section of the library. Here ghosts had communicated stories through mediums (sometimes in languages never previously understood by the medium) about their lives. Saving Fish From Drowning was supposedly a story based on the actual tellings of Bibi Chen, a famous art-critique / collector / or something. She was to be going on a trip to China and Burma with some friends. Unfortunately, she was gruesomely murdered first. And that's where the story starts off. Bibi narrates the story as her friends continue to Burma without her. And, that "note to the reader" was just a pile of horse poop.

The grumpy and disparaging main character, Bibi, I found myself liking in spite of her prickly personality. She was a 60-something American immigrant who fled Shanghai with her family when the Communists took over. Initially narrating the story in a way only a ghost could, she ultimately had difficulty in having a lasting role throughout the later parts of the book.

She told us about the leadup to her death. And discussed rather amusingly how annoyed she was as she watched over her own funeral and was concerned for the welfare of her puppy Poochini. Normally, I would instantly annoyed with a person whose dog's name was Poochini, but that's probably not the first contradictive thing I have ever said. I found her dry wit and disdain for her "friends" very entertaining.

There were flashbacks to China, where she talked of the only character possibly more cantankerous and interesting than Bibi herself, the evil step-mother Sweet Ma. Probably the highlight of the book (a shame as it was in one of the first few chapters) was where she described how she had been paying for her hideous step-mother to stay in an old person's home described as "Death's Waiting Room".

When she became infirm, I put her in the best of senior residences, at great expense to myself. She was not grateful. She called it Death's Waiting Room. For years, I told myself to be patient, knowing she would soon die. Surely her explosive anger might cause a similar effect on the blood vessels or her brain or heart. She was nearly ninety-one and I only sixty-three when I passed her by and flew out of this world.

Oh, how she wept. She recalled our past together as such a rosy relationship that I wondered if she was more senile than I thought. Or could it be that she had actually had a change of heart? When I discerned the answer, I changed my mind about her as well. Whereas I once looked forward to her end, I now wish her a long, long life. Let her not leave Death's Waiting Room and join me as her companion in the afterlife.

Haha, oh dear.

Unfortunately it seemed as if it was all down hill from there. That was pretty much the last of the interesting insights to Bibi and the person she became as a result of Sweet Ma's love and affection.

As a ghost she followed her frineds through China and Burma as they made one horrible cultural faux-pas after another before getting themselves abducted in a forest by a tribe of jungle people hiding from the Burmese military regime. To summarise, the characters were boring and sex-obsessed. Quite disturbing when one of the couples to get it on in the jungle had an age gap of about 40 years. And if they didn't I only thought Heidi was in her mid-twenties because she was as equally immature and dopey as I am. Moff, her sexual deviant in crime was late 60's as far as I could tell and some kind of hippie trapped in the wrong decade.

The jungle people mistook young Rupert (a 15 year old) for a reincarnated Jesus in their bizarrely warped version of Christianity because he was carrying a book - they took to be the bible - and could perform card tricks. The rest whinged about their marriages, their incompetence, their lack of significant others or were simply forgotten by the author who, at points, seemed to also forget that Bibi was actually narrating the story. Bibi's insights and understanding of Buddhism, Chinese and Burmese culture all appeared to dry up as the book progressed. It became more and more frustrating and dull as the main characters made one appaling decision after another.

There was one or two references (in various forms) to Saving Fish From Drowning. One was totally literal, where a fisherman claimed to be actually saving them. The other (one paragraph later) was an argument about the US' role in the world, and how it goes in to save people from themselves but does as much collateral damage as it helps, but the book never really came to a head on the issue.

I think rather than save these from drowning, it might have been less painful to have just shot them in their barrel. Stay tuned for more book club rants...

Characters > Katherine

2009-03-07T22:00:00.006+05:30

I have been feeling creatively pathetic recently, and I haven't had a clue what to write about for months. Then I remembered this old little thing. The characters that I have met in Nepal. This post is about one of my favourites. Katherine.

[joint birthday party hilarity]

She's an American who arrived here just two weeks before I did on a program called Princeton in Asia. She's working somewhere between Child Protection and Education at the US branch of Save the Children [SAVE THEM! SAVE THEM!]. She's the only one amongst my close friend circle living in Lazimpat and it means we get to do a lot of amazing stuff together. She could fall asleep inside a lion's mouth, or on the tracks of an oncoming steam train at the drop of a hat which makes her a rather bad movie-watching buddy but is an amazingly good-hearted and optimistic person.

Our first encounter pretty much was an epic 30km uphill bike ride (man, those ARE beautiful photos, and I wish I was writing stuff like that now) through mud and rain in the middle of the monsoon, where we got lost and had images of appearing in the newspapers back home as "two stupid Western tourists lost in the forest"*.

This even was closely followed by an adventure through the Nagarjun Forest - an area in which the former king lives. It was organised in the heat of the moment on a Friday night over drinks. "Its the weekend tomorrow and we don't even know what we are going to do?!?!!" Luckily, Gemma's friend Jaya (you should remember him from such adventures as Mero Charpi Explode Chha) came to the rescue and recommended the walk. Amindst talk of "making the most of our time in Nepal" and doing something every weekend and totally embracing the outdoorsiness we climbed up another hill and I can't seem to find any post that has shared those photos with you [gasp].

Of course, the frequency of these adventuires deteriorated, once we established ourselves with routines and discovered that we might actually need to do work while we are here. So, while we still try to organise the occaisional adventure, or get ourselves out the Hash, we usually content ourselves with hanging out between my place and hers and our favourite locales in Lazimpat.

And we still have 4 months of adventures to enjoy!

*Incidentally I have heard rumours that there are mass graves in that particular national park from the insurgency (just in case this post left you with too good of a "happy feeling")

Medicated Haze

2009-03-05T20:45:00.002+05:30

Tonight I wandered out to grab some more vitamins. Less than a week until my friends arrive and a few days after that we set out on our trek...I MUST GET BETTER!

I'd been home all day, kind of in and out of sleep. I have been using every little trick I have learned in my 25 years of life to get better. They're probably clashing against one another.

There's the lemon, honey tea trick. My aunt imparted this one. She juice about 5 lemons, heated it up, whacked in a tea bag and added some honey. I don't know if it worke,d but it tasted amazing, although at the time I thought it was a collosal amount of lemons. Because I wasn't in the mood to hunt down some lemons, I have to make do wtih lemon flavoured dissolvable multi-vitamins.

Lemonade. My mother always encouraged me to drink plenty of lemonade to get some sugar and energy into me as well as to get the fluids moving. She also, as previously mentioned is a huge fan of lemsip - a sort of lemon /drug cocktail available back home.

Books and music. I have always found that the best reading can be done when confined to bed. I polished off Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince one day when I was home with [edit], SO I have almost finished our latest booclub book, "Saving Fish From Drowning". A book with a fantastic premise - great introduction, very interesting main character. Unfortunately it seems that the introduction was the peak of the story and the main character died in the first chapter. Oh well, at least part of it was good.

The music helkps me sleep. For some reason when I hear the voices of my favourite bands singing familiar songs it rocks me to sleep as if I were on a train.

So there I was at 8pm...the power just gone out. Medicated, wearing my pajamas and wandering the aisles of my corner supermarket on the hunt for more vitamins like a junkie from Robocop. I was wearing brown leather shoes with my long blue pajama pants. I was wobbly and kept holding my head. To add to my appearance, I had forgotten to put my glasses on before leaving the house. So I was squinting at everyone. The best part was that nobody thought I was acting strangely. All the guys working in the shop now recognise me and it was just another day.

I don't know why, but I am constantly surprised that I live here now. People know me here. They accept me as just another person not an odd (or off) foreigner to be gaped at.

Namaste.

Racist Bastards

2009-03-05T12:21:00.001+05:30

I'm not a racist. I'm certain. Like 90% certain.

I am sure that character flaw does not mean I should be forced to endure the current torture I do on a daily basis. It's really hard to swallow the racist mongrels that taunt me on the way to work. They come yelling at my heels like rabid dogs.

But get this, the reason I know that they're racist is because they only go for me when I have the legs of my pants rolled up. You know, "nerdy - i'm on my way to work and don't want to look like a tractor took an oil pee on me" style rolled up pants.

I could go past with everything covered but my eyes and they would leave me alone. Cover everything up and they ignore you, show the tiniest interest in them or the slightest flash of a white leg under your jeans and they'll be running alongside with no friendly intentions. Racists.

I don't think I'd mind a racist parrot, screaming profanities at me each morning as I wake up. Or perhaps a cat so incensed at the colour of the curtains that it rips them down while you are away. But a gang of 4 dogs waiting on the corner to 'have a chat' with me each morning really chomps the biscuit.

Sometimes I have to make an important decision. Slow down at the intersection or have my skin pierced by viscious teeth? Weigh up the options, under the wheels of that bus? Or accept a mauling from 4 potentially rabies infested rabid black dogs?*

*I'm not entirely sure but "rabies infested rabid" might mean the same thing...

The Small Things

2009-03-02T21:07:00.002+05:30

A friend of mine recently said, "Enjoy yourself Rob, keep enjoying the little things." She's been awfully happy and bright with herself recently, so I thought it was a rather easy thing to say. But I gave it a go anyway. It was remarkably refreshing. I think it's been a long time since I really did that. I'm not sure why it is, but immediately after she said it, I was seeing them everywhere.

After getting off the phone from a great talk with my girlfriend, I ran down the road to grab some dinner. As I walked, Jebediah - La Di Da Daa came on from my playlist. Its a great soundtrack to this post.

At a restaurant I was at in Nargarkot the generator kicked in and Bob Marley started winding up on the CD player. Immediately, the wind also picked up and the tree outside the window started dancing.

Riding past Ratna Park (the busy bus hub of the city), a minivan screamed past me, literally bulging with the amount of people inside, the 'conductor' had his head out the window screaming out the bus' destinations. On the back window was a sticker "Welcome to Nepal".

As I was riding to the lookout above Nargarkot a dog started running alongside. I think it could have been the same one that went up theree with Dilli and me last time. Or perhaps,tht's just an active imagination.

A boy gave me a red flower.

At Shivapuri (recent festival), my neighbours stole wood from the construction site next to our compound and we had a fire in our courtyard and shared popcorn, while everyone laughed at my inability to understand Crazy Neighbour Lady's rants.

An old man grinned at me while I was on the way to work thing morning.

The Question

2009-02-26T07:54:00.001+05:30

I ask why a lot. You know this. It’s a bad question in Nepal. Cos no one knows the answer.

Load shedding fun fact #2: They don't seem to need a schedule anymore, they just give it to you when it suits them, which was not for 36 hours the other day.

Distant Closeness

2009-02-23T15:04:00.000+05:30

I'm sitting in the peaceful hills of Nargarkot (or I was yesterday when I wrote this). A gruelling 10km uphill slog followed by a restful dinner and a bout of people watching as I sat in silence, enjoying my surroundings.

Just after my arrival I watched the sunset over the Kathmandu Valley. You couldn't see the Kathmandu that I knew was there for all the smokey haze. As the sun got lower it made it even worse. It was quite nice to know that I was far away from the hustle and bustle. I got more than 12 hours sleep as there were no Hindu bells, no dogs and no shouting neighbours screeching away at the well by my bedroom window.

Eventually convincing myself to leave the room and grab some breakfast I got to see the Himalayan views that have been eluding me for so long. I'm staying at the Hotel at the End of the Universe, a funny throwback to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I tried to explain that to the waiters, but I think the idea was lost.

As I sat chomping on my breakfast, I stared out the open window to look at Langtang, which was looking, quite strangely straight across probably a hundred kilometres of wilderness back at me. It felt almost personal, even though there are a million places it could have been looking, a million other stories for it to watch today. The hawks, always so glorious and discerning, fly endless circles above the restaurant every now and again whipping into the trees to emerge on the other side. They are closer than I have ever seen them before, enjoying the warm of the sun and the thermal updrafts it creates. My two recently departed grandparents were such avid bird-watchers, they would have loved this.

As the day progresses the mountains are getting harder to see. For now, I can still make them out, they are so close I feel like I could just run up them but so far away they seem impossible to reach or touch.

Last night in my self-induced silence I started go back through my diary entries. To look at my first few days in Nepal, to look at my days on the way to the Annapurna Sanctuary. Back in the times where I was deathly sick with a chest infection and an overwhelming desire to go home and to my work successes and frustrations.

"19 July 2008 - Day Three - Today we went to visit the town of Bhaktapur. Lovely town with no vehicles allowed. I picked up a 'sticky' local whose name was Shailama,I think. The others madde fun of me because I kept talking to him although he was really only keen to sellme some of his paintings." How times have changed..

"26 July 2008 - Day Ten - After staying the night I returned to my flat. It had been an awful sleep. They have no curtains and @ 5 we were woken by the Hindu bells, which in turn woke the dogs and the children."

"10 August 2008 - Day Twenty-Five - What are you even doing here???"

"12 August 2008 - Day Twenty Seven - OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH the pain! GASTRO!"

"1 September 2008 - Day Forty Eight - The first day of Autumn, before I even realised what day it was I was remarking in the change outside."

"3 October 2008 - Day Eighty - MADE IT TO ABC!"

"7 November 2008 - Day One hundred and Fifteen - That was a truly bizarre experience. They were singing songs and talking about the historic-ness of it all. The American accents were everywhere as were the flags. There was a life size cut out of Obama up the front and an amazing excitement in the air."

AlooRob! [dat da da daaaa]

2009-02-21T00:47:00.007+05:30

Po, your friendly DNA mutating seamonkey, has been gracious enough to regularly visit (and even COMMENTS! please contact her if you are struggling with the phenomenon). But she wanted to actually know something about me. So I present, Pos' interview questions for PotatoRob!

So, um, what is it EXACTLY that you do?

Good question. At the moment I am a Research Officer at an Eye Hospital in the Nepal. Meaning I do just about anything but research. Unless we are talking about the research I do for myself on the internet when I'm supposed to be 'researching'. In real life, I'm a Health Information Manager. I could talk about it for hours, but let's just say I translate the geek speak for the doctors and the med speak for the nerds.

How do you spend an "average" day, if there is such a thing?

When in a negative frame of mind, I would say my average day consists of arguing pointlessly for something that might make things better around here. That, and adding or removing articles from research papers written by staff at the hospital. "The Nepal" is the most frustrating mistake I come across. Normal expressions are somehow used inexplicably in the wrong context, or over-used ad nauseum. Including, but are not limited to "til date", "nowadays", "developing countries like Nepal". That one is particularly annoying, because I am sure they cannot quite possibly mean to exclude developing countries that are unlike Nepal. I mean, how many countries are landlocked between the two thundercats of the early 21st century, China and India? With altitudes ranging from 60 metres above sea level to 8848 metres at the top of Everest, does Fiji really compete? What developing country IS 'like Nepal'?

But an average day involvs providing advice on data collection for research, explaining the information output to the managers, and playing refereee to the arguments unleashed in the office between Nhukesh

and Raju

It's easier to be referee when you don't speak the language. That way you can actually differentiate which one is being childish, even without understanding.

What are your plans for the next few years?

I get back to Australia in July. At which point I fully intend to spend an annoying amount of time with my girlfriend, Lauren, who has been incredibly tolerant with my now 7 month long disappearance. I'm talking about the amount of time that would normally encourage friends to whinge and bitch. I'm hoping to pick up some work with a health IT software company as a Business Analyst and find some time to start and potentially complete a Masters in Business Administration. And get a dog who will be a Rotty named Nuffy and love me more than chew toys and be gloriously slobbery (and chase DJ's cat Snickers).

What would you like to change or improve about yourself?

I argue with people. I don't know when to stop. I argue with my girlfriend, friends, with my mother and I refuse to accept other points of view as if no one but me could be right. I try to make everyone agree with me. But even when they do agree with me I'm not happy about it. Why? Because, if everyone agrees, what kind of boring world are we living in? It's not a good habit, its caused a lot of tear but I'd like to be more accepting of alternative points of view, and know when to keep my gigantic mouth shut.

What are your weaknesses?

As above. But also I don't concentrate on one task for very long. Like a goldfish that got stood on by an elephant. FOr someone that organises and understands information for a living I have no concept of how to keep a diary or avoid papers cluttering up my office, car and even on some occaisions, my bed (when you run out of room everywhere else it doesn't seem so strange...)

What are you really afraid of?

Settling. In all its forms.

What sports do you like to play?

My brother and I used to play an incredibly active game of cowboys and indians. We would spend 1-2 hours setting up little plastic cowboys and indians around the room and then start throwing stuff at each others 'troops'. Classic entertainment. Kids just don't seem to get that excited about it these days.

Actually I love watching the Aussie Rules, Rugby and Cricket, but play touch footy, and mixed netball.

when you were a kid, what do you want to be?

I went through a lot of phases. A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (and in all honesty, who didn't?), Monkey Magic, a farmer (I don't know where that one came from), a scientist (just like my hero Po!) and a physio. I didn't make any of those, but I did dress up as Donatello once though...

What really aggravates or annoys you in other people?

I thought long and hard about this one. I wanted to say 'ignorance', but I realised that ignorance can be OK. No one knows everything about everything, and many people have different opportunities to develop their knowledge of the world. I'm like to say 'intolerance', but I'm probably one of the most intolerant people I know.

I think I have to say 'indifference'. People who give up taking control of their own lives or situations, believing nothing they do has any value or point. The idea that you can have no impact on your surroundings, the people you see everyday. That you cannot change anything. You might not be able to change the world, but you can change your world. Very Ghandi.

OMG @ the OMEC

2009-02-13T16:44:00.008+05:30

The first time I saw surgery I was almost physically ill. The skin peeled back, a chisel pulled out and some bone chipped away. I’ve seen videos of cataract and other eye surgeries being performed as part of my assignment that I would liken to a game of billiards. But in Banepa, a small trading town on the road to Tibet, in a makeshift operating theatre inside a school classroom, Dr Ruit made cataract surgery look like an art form – 67 times.

Last weekend, I departed at 7am Saturday morning for my very first surgical camp (Outreach Microsurgical Eye Camp). We didn't actually travel far for this one. At an OMEC there are a lot of activities, all of which I sort of helped out with, sort of interfered with, all the while trying to keep my jaw from dragging along the ground. I could go on for hours about all the different parts of it. Most of that I am going to save for an article I am writing for our magazine, but I'll give you the main ingredients:

Departure and unloading - leaving Tilganga at 7 sharp we travelled the relatively short distance (as far as OMECs go) to the town of Banepa (somewhere Mike and I passed through on our Tibetan adventure), we unloaded all the makings for an anaesthetic room and an operating theatre and ate breakfast...mmmmmmm curried soybeans and oily deep fried bread! Sorry, I accidentally deleted the photos!
Screening camp - much like the trip I have already written about, I travelled on with a few of the boys to Dolalghat,

a nice little getaway another 40-50km or so on from Banepa. Many Kathmandu families go here for picnics and the area is famous for its fresh water fish (yuck). Here we screened more than 300 patients, 22 of whom needed cataract surgery.

I was in the counselling room "explaining" about their surgery and what was going to happen. In all honesty, I was writing down their details, while Ripon's brother (with no training qualifications or understanding of what, in fact, a cataract is) told the patients that we would be taking them to Banepa to "clean" their eyes.

[one of my favourite photos]

Apparently, mentioning the word surgery causes a kind of mass exodus that doesn't look good on our statistics.

Or to our donors.

I took a photo of one lady before stupidly trying to show it to her. She politely pointed out that she was effectively blind, and couldn't see the photo I was showing her.

I am constantly amazed at the ability of 80 and 90 year old Nepalis to wait patiently in this position for hours.

We returned on Saturday evening to finish preparing the "operating room", which was actually a classroom, and do final tests on the 22 cataract patients we identified and the other 30 or 40 the other screening camp group found.

Surgery Day 1 - Sunday was the start of surgery. From 8am Suha-daai started anaesthetising patients. Dr Ruit and two American doctors, Matt and Paul showed up and got straight into it!

One of the most amazing stories was an elderly mute man with bilateral "hand motion" visual acuity. Meaning, he could effectively only see you waving a hand in his face and not much more. Constantly frustrated in waiting around for he knew not what he often yelled out angrily, banging his stick on the ground.

[waiting for anaesthetic for surgery 1]

The surgeons got through about 60 patients on the day and we didn't get back for dinner until about 8pm.

[surgery 1]

I popped over to the hall where the patients were staying. That was it, a hall. With blankets and pillows.

[post surgery 1, not a happy camper]

Food, Cards and Good Company - As last time I found the field trip to be a great friend building experience. People I had previously only seen around the hospital were now joking around and making fun of my lack of Nepali. The girls would say stuff to me and then giggle hysterically. Pemba-daai gave me a new nickname. "Aloo Rob". Apparently "rob" also means "plant" in Nepali, I asked "what? like a potato (aloo)?" This caused a huge burst of laughter from the girls and solidified my new name. Pemba still thinks its funny a week later.

Surgery Day 2 - The second day of surgery, all the bilaterally blind patients (first eye operated on the day before) went back for their other eye to be done, following a post-op inspection. The eye-patch put on following surgery the day before is lifted and the ophthalmic assistants check the position of their new lens. It was a very special moment when my special guy's patch was lifted. His son stood at the top of the stairs and held up two fingers. He held up two in response and yelled excited nothings. I don’t know that there are many points in life where you feel the way I did in that single moment. I could not help but giggle as a wave of welcome happiness rushed through my entire body.

[post-op from surgery 1, yelling and pointing at his son]

Surgeries continued as did the screening downstairs. The patients had to wait calmly as each of them had their turn 'inside the room'.

Last Day - It was the last day, we had to finish up our post-ops, pack up and get back to Kathmandu. The patients needed instructions for any problems they might experience and we checked their visual acuity so we can analyse the camp for its level of success later.

[post-op surgery 2, laughing while everyone pointed at me and said "white man"]

The camp was such an amazing experience. I'll have to do another post to tell more of the special stories.

[the man in the beanie was a gorgeous gentleman that always gave me the thumbs up when he caught my eye, he was so happy to be able to see again {massive understatement}]

I was quite amazed to see people the DAY AFTER SURGERY with unaided visual acuity better than mine! Lucky buggers.

[one cool cat]

In total, we did 110 eyes and screened more than 700 patients. Less than 4 days work. That still amazes me. I'll put some links up soon for those of you that want to be able to contribute to this amazing phenomenon. For as little as $25 you can give one of these people their sight back. ;)

Charpi and Disappearance

2009-02-05T21:07:00.004+05:30

I used to be funny, I don't know what happened. I've been very dour and miserable in my posts of late.

In light of that, I thought today I would revisit two longtime friends, Danesh and Charpi.

You guys haven't heard about Danesh in a while. It seems as if the man fell off the face of the earth. Perhaps he did, aside from bizarre little appearances he makes along the main street, saying "how are you" in a very disarming way (ie, without a question mark) and thereby using up his arsenal of English before disappearing on his bike or back into the crowd. Tonight, after having put it off for 2 days, I headed off to get a new bottle of mineral water. It was getting close to 9 and I knew I was pushing my luck for making it to the cute little store run by the sahuni who always looks for me to say hi in the morning while I'm on my way to work.

She was in fact closed when I arrived but insisted on reopening just to get me my 20L bottle of water. As she circumnavigated two gas bottles and a wardrobe to get my water only after somehow working out how to get back into her shop that appeared to be locked from the inside, Danesh did his magic trick and appeared before my eyes.

I'm quite proud of the fact that I can now at least get my point accross in Nepali and generally understand the meaning of whatever the guy in front of me is saying. The only thing that amazes me more than Danesh's magic tricks is the fact that I can carry on a conversation with complete strangers in Nepali, but as soon as someone that lives within 100 metres of my house appears, all words seem to become potting mix, the useless kind that just smells off.

He asked as usual, "how are you" (still sans question mark) before commenting, I think, that I appeared to be buying water. "Water" was all I could seem to fathom in response. "AHHHH! Water, yes yes." Then he started waving at the bottle and saying what I interpreted to be either "rain" or "water taking". He said it again, and completely at a loss, a certain part of my brain set aside for special events such as this stepped up to the plate and inserted a completely random word that might hope to make the rest of the exchange make sense. That word in this case was "house". Putting two and two together, I came to the conclusion that he was offering to carry my water home.

Having already suffered the pains of trying to refuse help I consented and was shocked to see him do the disappearing trick again. Picking up my bottle of water and briefly contemplating the fact that two and two never really ever do equal four anyway, I trotted home. Seconds later he whizzed passed me on his bike. I saw him run up to the gate, open it and disappear again. Turns out that the words I had interpreted as "I carry water to your door" actually were "you carry water, I open door". An easy mistake....

Its actually quite the coincidence that Danesh should re-enter my life just as Charpi has started acting up again. Poor Charpi is leaking all over the floor and the worst part is I have absolutely no idea where it is coming from. The water has a nasty yellow kind of colour to it. I'm quite sure that its rust from something, but to the casual observer, one sees yellow coloured liquid on the floor next to a toilet and there are only so many conclusions you can come to. I should probably get something done about it, but as long as he is hanging on the wall, not exploding and otherwise behaving himself I can't really kick up a fuss.

I have one more thing to add:

Load Shedding Fun Fact # 1. - do not leave anything that is likely to disagree with being douched by the self-defrosting freezer on the bottom shelf of the fridge, specifically loaves of bread and milk cartons.

Gutful, an Absolute Gutful

2009-02-04T20:53:00.004+05:30

For those of you expecting me to deliver another dreary, nasty and negative post about Nepal's political situation, you are half right. This might be dreary nasty and negative, but its certainly not about Nepal. Not this time. Hey, my last post was more upbeat, and I don't think there were any references to Human Rights abuses at all!

This post is targeted at those ingrate tweens, twenty-somethings and even possibly thirty somethings (as I get closer I begin to realise that I need to be more inclusive). The ones that have stupid political comments on their facebook, myspace, twitter and Hi5 profiles such as "I don't care", "politicians are all lying idiots anyway" or "meh".

To understand that simply having the freedom to make a comment like that should be enough to encourage you never to do so. If you are even able to read this post then you are better off that a great number of people in the world. You can read it (or I'm assuming that you can) because you got to go to a school. A school that had a curriculum, put together by some kind of government agency or organisation. If you are Australian, then you probably enjoy the benefits of Medicare, the Pharmaceutical Benefits scheme, Centrelink, having a road to drive to work on and you probably know people that got to have a high quality free university education. You are protected from thousands of the world's diseases by the sometimes "over-protective" Australian Customs, and even if they did open all of my Christmas mail home, I understand why. You are living in a society with an incredibly low unemployment rate. It's pretty amazing when you can be in a country where people start getting worried when the unemployment rate starts to get above 5%. You have power, because the electricity company has the infrastructure and appropriate political environment to actually carry out its job.

Do you people understand how lucky you are that you can not give two flips about what the politicians are up to on a day-to-day basis? Can you not understand that you can only not care because at the heart of it you can decently expect those same lying cheating mongrels not to take your apathy, run a million miles with it before using it for their own financial advantage, twisting it, crunching it and manipulating it before wiping themselves off with it and flinging it off the end of the earth.

You don't need to live in fear that Kevin Rudd will physically threaten Malcolm Turnbull and end up taking Julia Gillard and Wayne Swan on the war path to solidify their positions of power.

Please, wake up to how lucky you are and at least be interested in the action of your elected representatives. In the processes of government that allow you to assume the garbage will be collected next week. That you will have power when you flick the light switch, that members of your family won't go missing. That your taxes are being spent on what people say they are spending them on. Enjoy the freedom you have to politician bash, but do it for a reason, not because you are apathetic.

OK, so it turned out that it was about Nepal. Only indirectly though. I'm just sick of people being so blind to what is happening aroudn them when I can see the consequences of it. A few images to get your head in the right place:

Bats, 'Rents and a Busy Week!

2009-02-02T15:09:00.001+05:30

It's about time that I made a comeback on the blog. It has been an
incredibly busy week, not only having Mum and Dad here, but preparing for
their arrival.

Firstly my house needed to be cleaned. Like really cleaned. Fortunately my
efforts did not go unnoticed. UNfortunately, my mother was shocked and
appaled that I had survived 6 months without a grater, 4 weeks without a
peeler and had no plates on which to serve meals. "I mean, how do you cook
things without a grater?" It seemed as if I had a grater it could have done
all the work for me, so long as a peeler and serving plates were also nearby
to take up their portion of the workload.

It didn't occur to me to say it at the time, but I think that I came to a
conclusion long ago that using a grater only forces you to have to wash it
later. A similar conclusion is obvious for the peeler but also stands for
serving plates. Washing up is already a tireless and strenuous activity
without having to throw in the complicated step of working out how exactly
to get a grater clean without cutting yourself or leaving chunks of sponge
embedded in the grater to be enjoyed next time it comes out. The peeler is
similar in that I can never get bits out of the little corners, tires me out
just thinking of it.

As I live alone, I see no problem with eating directly from a steaming hot
saucepan except for the obvious dangers of skin or tongue vs burning hot
metal (I do like to lick the bowl when finished to ensure I get all my
nutrients). I therefore have no need for fancying up a meal by putting it
on a seperate plate simply for the purpose of serving it to myself (and
therefore creating more washing up).

On top of that, I can buy samosa's for 8 rupees, momo's for 20, puri sabji
for 30 or a beautiful green salad with amazing dressing for 60. You have to
really enjoy cooking to give up on action like that!

I took Mum and Dad to Pokhara for a nice relaxing weekend in the middle of
the week. The trip there is not that relaxing, rather an incredibly
uncomfortable 7 hour bus ride with inexplicable stops. Dad quite rightly
pointed out that there were a few potholes on the other side of the road he
thinks the driver missed, and suggested we might go back to pick them up.

We went wandering through a bat cave, briefly contemplating not paying to
hire a torch for some reason thinking that perhaps there might be light
inside a bat cave [damn you Bat Man]. Luckily common sense won out and we
shelled out 30 rupes for a torch. Inside, there are thousands and thousands
of bats along with a rather treacherous route around and through rocks and
stalagmites. My 61 year old mother tried to squeeze through the gap to the
outside world at the end of the cave and quite nearly got stuck rather than
admit it would be both more comfortable and less muddy to go back the way we
came. The 15 or so male 20 somethings egging her on and pushing here and
there and giving advice did absolutely nothing to discourage her.

I was really keen to go to the World Peace Pagoda (a buddhist stupa) at the
top of a hill overlooking the lake that Pokhara has grown up near.
Unfortunately, we thought we had chosen the 10 minute route. In fact it was
a 75 minute route almost straight up. I was worried I would give one of
them a heart attack. We did eventually make it to the top for one of the
best views I have yet enjoyed in Nepal. It would have been better were we
able to see the Himalayas, but the view of the lake made up for it. It was
truly the first time I have felt at peace for at least a month with all of
the stressors I have been feeling back in the Du.

Their departure yesterday left me with a whelming (neither over or under,
just a smack bang) feeling of isolation and loneliness and I went about my
business alone on Sunday afternoon. I am more than 6 months through this
assignment however, and my next big thing to look forward to is the arrival
of the new AYADs in Feb and then the arrival of my 'wife' and friends in
March! YIPPEE Everest here we come!

Tales of Inanity Teaser

2009-01-24T21:53:00.002+05:30

Those of you who know what Tales of Inanity is, you are in for a surprise. Those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about just watch the video and be as impatient as I am...

Its coming!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1ozrGwZwz0

Brought to you by www.coolesteveronline.com

Always Doing

2009-01-21T15:05:00.000+05:30

Raju is always quote-worthy, here’s a pearler I am going to take home with me.

“We are always busy ‘doing’. Always do-do-do-do-do. So busy. But we don’t know how to do. Is problem.”

A Sense of Confidence

2009-01-19T16:17:00.000+05:30

I should be posting happy glowy feely stuff before my parents arrive on
Sunday, but I can't help myself. At the moment I am a paranoid
hypochondriac that talks about bombs, anti-government sentiment and
negativity in the workplace. Bird Flu is currently being fought off at the
border with India, with human infections reported in China. People are
warning us off chickens and eggs, which I can live with as I really don't
eat a great deal of chicken here, but its becoming increasingly impossible
to walk around the corner without expecting to get killed by something
sinister and horrible. Avi sent me this, because she's always so good at
cheering me up:

"Don't know about eggs.....but we could all get hit by a bus tonight (knock
wood), so the real question is - who the hell wants to be a vegan if it
could all end tomorrow!?"

The Six Month Report

2009-01-15T19:54:00.000+05:30

Today I received an email from my manager asking me to complete my six month report. It contains such questions as "what do you feel you have acheived so far?" and "Do you feel supported in your project?" and "Where to next?"

Facing a complete inability to answer these questions for myself, I started looking around me for something to distract me from the inevitable task of answering these impossibly difficult questions. My eyes fell on a group that might be asking themselves the same things. Or at least should be. Where to next? What have we actually achieved? Has anyone noticed that we aren't all that sure what needs to happen next? Harsh words to apply to a new government, but I am becoming increasingly perplexed and the political climate in Nepal.

In a place where the leaders are more capital city centric in their thinking than Queensland, I have already unloaded about the difficulties faced by load shedding - we may have 16 hours per day without power but there are some remote villages with NO POWER. We can't lay all the blame of that on the Maoists, obviously. Nepal has been in a situation of government instability for decades. Foreign aid was diverted from the projects it was intended for by the very people responsible for distributing it. Parts of the country thrive on insane levels of bureaucracy seen before probably only in Douglas Adams books. The need for more power plants was obviously recognised, but somehow, no one ever got to doing very much about it. However, the Maoists have made some horribly poor promises that people want to hold them to for good reason and they shouldn't have done that. They have a terrible shortcoming in looking no further than next week's crisis. There are so many pending crises (some they created and others they haven't) that if they keep this up, the 2 years allowed for the development of this constitution will be up before anyone has blinked an eye. They need to stop creating crises for themselves that not only prevent them from getting on and managing the country, but undermine their credibility as the group that intends to abolish castes and treat all people equally.

Some examples you say? The YCL (the youth arm of the Maoists [commonly referred to as Maoist cadres]) stormed the printing office of NepalMedia, assualted the journalists they found there and attempted arson to prevent further negative talk of the Maoist affiliated trade unions. Following the attack, a Maoist minister claimed that it never happened before taking it back and saying 'it wasn't that bad, at least nobody was murdered' before then accusing the journalists of attacking the YCL boys they then turned in two culprits whose fate I haven't yet ascertained. The event displayed the party's terrible lack of unification and a horrifying penchant for violence when things don't go their way. Oh yeah, as well as a lack of respect for a free press.

Recently, as I believe I have mentioned, some Indian preists were assisted in their 'resignation' from the holy Hindu temple Pashupati. What I don't think I mentioned was that they were replaced by Nepali priests appointed by the government. A stay-order laid down by the Supreme Court was ignored by a minister and the YCL (again) who broke down the gates and escorted the Nepali priests in to give worship. When some priests got together a press conference to voice their concerns they were attacked by the YCL and many tyres were burnt (disrupting my trip home, incidentally) and making a rather unpleasant smell float through the air. Incidentally, the urge to get the Nepali priests in there at all costs obviously dissipated as they reversed the decision with the whole event ending up being a waste of government and commuter time while admittedly making some interesting water cooler talk.

The Nepal Army started recruiting for vacant positions, that one can only assume developed through natural attrition as well as vacancies that may have been left over as a result of war. The Maoists objected to this and stated that if the Nepal Army began re-recruiting then they would too (obviously fearing some kind of coup). Hardly a situation that instills a sense of confidence in the people that you are done with your violent past. There is a perfectly valid argument for not recruiting and that is the strain on the economy that an inflated army creates, but they didn't go for that, they went for a game of cowboys and indians 'well, if you do that I will too! So there!'

Every time the Prime Minister comes under fire, his response seems to be 'fine then, I'll just quit!' Sorry, that's all I've got to say on that one.

There is another item, but I don't think it really has anything to do with the government, I just want to complain about it. The garbage hasn't been collected in more than a week. I put it down to load-shedding related strikes but there was a rumour that one of the landfills is locked, to which I say "where's the bloody key?" This might not be a problem you think, hey, the garbage men only come once a week in Australia... Well here's the thing. I'm not just talking about my area, I'm talking city-wide. We don't have wheelie bins, we don't have industrial bins and giant trash compacting trucks that lumber down the street. Our garbage piles up in certain allocated (or less allocated) areas on the street where is it available for dogs, monkeys and various scavengers to sort through for treasure. In fact, I actually saw one scavenging dog that had become an item of the garbage - such a shame. The pile was so bad down near New Road yesterday that the traffic could only go one-way!

I really worry about what is going to happen next. What will happen if they don't get re-elected? They have already displayed a lack of respect for the things that many countries hold dear. Want to stop corruption and imbezzlement within the richest temple in the country? Then stop the corruption, enforce some sort of regulation, don't just appoint your own lackeys. For this country to have a chance of future success the government needs to take a long-term view, stop creating issues for itself, get their violent youth under control by giving them something constructive to do and stop ingnoring the essence of democracy that they supposedly stand for, and allow a free press and respect the order of the courts!

Dash Experiences a Change

2009-01-14T08:57:00.002+05:30

Remember how I posted a long time ago how relaxing it was to lose power on Sunday nights, to light and candle and write in my journal or something?

Well, when we hit winter, the load shedding (I prefer the term load sharing, but apparently that's the wrong thing to say - god forbid we actually call it like it is) schedule increased gradually, more and more each week to where it is now, at a strong healthy 16 hours per day. Until now I have been blissfully inexperienced regarding the schedule because I live near the diplomats and ministers and president. According to the 'nature of their jobs', they need power 24/7. You might believe that this could be argued about just about any professional, but that idea simply doesn't seem to click in the brains of the important people. Apparently the infrastructure is too old to specifically allow power to go certain places, so our whole part of town stays lit up like a runway while everyone around us is in darkness.

Finally, after months of this kind of thing a journalist finally thought it might be worth attacking the uppities for this holier than thou attitude and brought it to everyone's attention. A bhandh (strike) or two regarding the issue was enough to get us to start load shedding. I'm not sure whether I'm now at the full 16 hours per day or not, as there has been very little communication, so I have to just prey that when I get home from the gym there is electricity to boil the kettle in order to have a shower. OH yeah, I don't think I've mentioned, my solar water doesn't get hot enough during the day anymore (potentially because the sun is clouded over by a thick penetrating fog that would give trial soccer matches at Iona college a run for their money) and partly because I try to have showers at about 6pm, when the sun is definitely on its way out. So to ensure I have comfortably warm water I now shower out of a bucket using a concoction of water, two parts boiled kettle water to three parts cold tap water that I am surprised can make it through the pipes without freezing

Just think what losing 16 hours of power per day could do to your business. There's no lights, there's no refrigeration, many cooking appliances become heavy metal objects and your computer will last the amount of time you have battery charged which itself will quickly decrease because of all the power surges... Also, for those of us not running businesses, that 8 hours of power per day is not likely to be while you are at home. Remember one has to work 8, sleep 8 and i know that you aren't home all the rest of that time...

Is there a solution? Well maybe, do you have an inverter? An inverter will suck electricity out of the network when you are technically not getting any - I think. Do you see a problem with this? Like perhaps, the whole point of load shedding is to share the available electricity amongst all the people that need it? If you are sucking out power when its not your turn all you do is contribute to the increase of time periods then the power will be out! HOW CAN YOU BE SO INCONSIDERATE! (says I who have had power for the last few months - and enjoyed it immensely - since the election of the [communist, should I need to remind you] prime minister who believes his profession is that much more important that he needs power at home 24/7

There's another alternative. Diesel powered generators. We have 4 at work and when they are all functioning (which is hardly ever) they guzzle more than 50 litres of diesel AN HOUR! Being a hospital, you can hardly afford to have the power cut out in the middle of surgery so it is a necessary evil while the personal needs of ministers and embassy's is put over that of healthcare.

The government** promised that the days of load shedding would be over when they came to power* - a stupid promise really, because you can't change things like that by snapping your fingers, yet the country is experiencing load shedding on a level never before experienced. Their solution is to eliminate load shedding ('or minimise it' <- there's your out clause) by building diesel powered power plants to meet the immediate need. This seems preposterous, because of the insane cost of diesel, but also because by the time they get something like that up and running, it will be summer again and there won't be such a demand for power as there is now. Better to invest the money in the long-term eco-friendly renewable energy sources, but then, that's not this government's strong point*. We have a country rich in hydro and thermal power-generating potential yet many people are without clean water or power*.

So as my friend's mock me for my inexperience regarding this shift to load shedding, the planning of hot showers, and the best time to get on the internet to call your family and significant other, the proud moment where I planned where to find my candles and lighter - I'm justglad that I'm getting the same treatment as everyone else.

*Rants for other days, as this has already become quite long.
**The 'government' BTW, is actually only interim, until the Constituent Assembly finishes writing the constitution. A process that has not yet started* after 6 months.

The Light of the Moon

2009-01-10T22:05:00.000+05:30

I'm not a super happy glowy person. People think that I am. I am extroverted and outgoing, can be charming and romantic if I want to be. I am those things, but I am cynical and dark too. Not all the time, obviously. And not always at the same time, that's just too emo.

Strong emotions at both ends of the scale are so close to each other it surprises me. Love and hate. Laughter and melancholy. Contentment and menace.

Like new-fangled mobile phones where two buttons are so close to each other. You go to push one, but accidentally get the other. A song that flicks a switch in the brain from one mode to the next.

I feel like I'm in limbo, in statis. I haven't felt like I used to feel. Everything is different. Has it gone away? Am I still the same person? I felt a strong affinity for that guy. He was intelligent and astute. Sure, he could be lonely and dejected, but that just allowed him to be set apart. Did something happen while I was sleeping? Is it just buried and waiting to resurface?

A sense of confusion turned to sureness by the not just yet full moon. The confusion lingers in the shadows of the buildings in a walk inspiring a sense of incomparable conviction on a subject that is nothing in particular. A solid sense of deep 'n meaningfulness that's not really there.

Perhaps that's enough insight for tonight.

The Indian Tourist

2009-01-09T08:01:00.002+05:30

The other day as we drank tea outside the kitchen at work, we watched in fascination as 3 busloads of Indians emerged from 2 buses parked in our hospital car park. They began washing their saris and then spreading out across the carpark and 'field' of dirt (that many Nepali's use for learning to drive / ride a motorbike) to stand patiently holding out their clothes to dry in the sun.

The entire experience was quite extraordinary as all the doctors, admin and ophathalmic assistant staff watched on. I found myself gazing, mouth open, like so many of the Nepalis do to me as I ride down the street or do my shopping. Nhukesh explained to me that they were here to visit Pashupatinath, the local temple that is kind of like a Hindu Mecca. People come from all across the Hindu world to worship there.

Recently it’s been a hive of controversy when three Indian priests (historically the ONLY priests allowed to work there) 'resigned'. The issue surrounded not only the history, but the supposed government involvement in the 'resignations' and appointment of two new Nepali priests. There are two interesting sides to the argument, one suggesting that the temple makes a metric f-tonne of money from worshippers, and that the Indian priests might be either pocketing it, or magicing it away to

The other argument essentially revolves around the objection to change (from Indian priests to Nepalis) and to the government involvement in religion, which isn't suppsed to happen anymore.

As I ride to walk, this posse of Indian pilgrims trek in the opposite direction towards the temple. They've pretty much taken over this section of town as each day a new bus can be found. Nhukesh said that they come in their buses, bring all the food they will need for a month on the road, including stoves and washing tubs so as to avoid spending any money while here, and they sleep in the bus so don't need to pay for accomodation (as long as they can find somewhere to park it). While probably frustrating for the local sahuji's, this lack of discretionary spending by the Indian tourist could be a sign of the financial economical downturn. Or it could simply be the fact that they are incredibly poor people trying to get by in the world.

Yesterday afternoon I saw a group of 20 Indian ladies hanging out on the street corner at Gaushalachowk shooting the breeze like a gang of youths on a Friday afternoon at McDonald's. The contrast with their Nepali brethren was actually quite strong and surprising.

I am still yet to visit Pashupatinath, I think it might happn when Mum and Dad get here in two weeks...yay!

Learning New Things...

2009-01-05T19:56:00.000+05:30

Today, while doing some background research, I came across a paper from Pakistan. Apparently, if you are literate, you are less likely than an illiterate person to be blind...

I wonder if the questionnaire was in brail...

The Didi Dramas

2009-01-04T19:22:00.005+05:30

Didi is the word for "older sister". It is a polite word that is used far more regularly that you might imagine and is generally applied to any woman older than you in a much more comfortable way that going "hey ma'am" - which reeks of facetiousness and is disgustingly unfamiliar.

Didi is also generally applied to a lady that does your washing for you. If you are super lucky, you might have a didi that does the washing, cleaning and maybe even some cooking. I'm just a washing kind of guy - I think its best for both her and me if only I have to deal with my mess.

There have been some interesting stories flying around about my friends' various didis, and what they get up to. A&G for example, employed a didi that took objection not only to the type of washing powder that they elected to use but also to the cord they had bought for hanging their clothes and their dishwashing detergent. This would probably be understandable in a land like Australia, where people miraculousy develop allergies to different forms of chemicals, tomatoes, peanuts and hard work, but amazingly, people here seem to get by without all that garbage. There were suggeestions of some kind of pilfering scheme that was going on, and if there wasn't, then there probably should have been. A&G's staunch devotion to the products they had already purchased, that were also cheaper than the ridiculously overpriced stuff their didi wanted was enough to end their relationship. For 6 months now A&G have been washing all their stuff by hand. That sounds a lot like the aforementioned hard work, so I don't think that option is for me, plus I have much more interesting things to do with my weekends.

JKS&C (who I believe now have a K and a T living with them) are in a phenomenally ridiculously large house (as you could probably assume by the 6 residents they have living in it). Supposedly, they have a 9-5 didi 5 days a week. Overkill you say? Well you are probably right,.and it seems she agrees because apparently she shows up at 10 or 11 and leaves at 3. There's other dramas associated with that but they are way over my head and probably not for public discussion [for the details go to www.dirtonthedidi.com....shhhhh]

Katherine has found the idea of locating a didi and trying to communicate what she wants done all too confronting so opts to walk to the tourist section of town with her load each week and pay for them to clean it, which is probably a more cost-effective option however more labour intensive than the one I employ.

I simply leave my washing at the door on Sunday and Wednesdsay nights, and she comes to take it away in the morning, returning it that night or the next. The most difficult part is remembering to put it out. This has proven to be more of a challenge that a normal person might expect, but as I think my didi (Reeta) has a washing machine and dryer, so a bigger load later in the week doesn't really seem to be much of a issue.

My drama starts when forgetting to put it out one fateful Wednesday two and a half weeks ago. I thought "no problem, there's always Sunday. Monday morning however, I woke up swearing, knowing that I had forgotten to put it out again (she's busy doing other people's washing or being out and about, so Monday and Thursdays are the only days she is prepared to allocate to me). The next Thursday I was leaving for work and tripped over my bucket of clothes, as they hadn't been collected - "oh what's going on here then? that's ok, I can make it to Monday with the clothes I have at the moment". The following Monday was similar, only I caught Danesh on his way out:

Me: Is Reetadidi here?

Danesh: No...coming

The "..." probably represented a rather important part of that conversation I didn't understand, as Reeta was not coming, nor was she actually anywhere near Kathmandu. My investigations led me to believe that she might have gone back to her village for some local festival. Complaining to Gemma, that I had gone for almost 2 weeks without any washing, "Gemma, I think my didi's gone bunk", she cleverly suggested that I might be capable of doing it for myself for a change, just this once. With my underwear supply desperately low, that's exactly what I started doing. Until today. A conversation with Laxmi (the lady that keeps the lovely garden downstairs) relieved my troubles.

Me: Laxmi-didi, is Reeta back?

Laxmi: Yes, yes, you must have big pile, dirty clothes!?

Me: Yes, I do

Later tonight, Laxmi came and knocked on my door with Reeta in tow.

Laxmi: Reeta is back, see? So you have clothes tomorrow, isn't it?

Me: Yes, tomorrow, OK. OK. Hi Reeta, did you have a good holiday? Good festival?

Laxmi: Her father died.

Me: Oh. ...

Nice Rob, very nice.

Incendiary Devices and Emails

2008-12-29T21:46:00.005+05:30

Two bombs were set off about two days ago. At the moment I know very little about it, other than "stay away from garbage piles (impossible BTW, they're everywhere) in the early morning" and "large crowds" (ummmmm....is anyone else a little sick of the government rhetoric for Australians in ANY foreign country?).

What I do know is that one was set off at the gate to the airport, responsibility claimed by a gropup from the Terai - sort of making it unrelated to the political argument mentioned in the last post, and another near the oldest high school in town - unsure whether related or not. I think one person was injured. The following is an email trail from today, where I tried to unravel more of the mystery. [It should be noted, that while I sit back enjoying 24/7 power like a king, my fellow travellers are suffering through 13 hours per day of load shedding/sharing (as announced today)].

Rob: Do you guys know more about the explosions from the other day? I haven’t got a paper yet. Apparently the one near the airport was claimed by a group from the Terai.
Avi: I havent' heard anythign and to be honest, am more interested in the new load shedding schedule...is that terrible of me?
Rob: It strikes me as weird. But then, I don’t think about the load shedding schedule, so maybe I’m the terrible one.

[added 1/1/2009] Avi: it's all about the hot showers rob. where to find one, how to make sure it lasts long enough so you actually get clean. Separatist nationalist movements pale in comparison to this.

PS. I'm fine, statistics show I'll be fine*. Foreigners were not targeted during the revolution**. I'm smiling still, so you should too...well - a prayer or two would be nice if you are religious.

*....probably
**....mostly

Laziness, Gastro and a sole Christmas

2008-12-27T22:04:00.004+05:30

When one gets sick, one tends to get lazy. Simply leaving the house poses a challenge too uninviting to bother contemplating. Our first Christmas gathering - yes, the fateful night that involved Swifty's recent troubles - left me recarving the line in the carpet from my bedroom to the bathroom. At a pinch, the ground can be covered in less that 5 seconds, but various household furniture and / or items will be left rolling in my wake.

Yes, I missed a day of work to sickness, it would have been more, but conveniently, I already had the time off for Christmas. Unfortunately for me, it meant that I missed my friend's Christmas party. Something I had been looking forward to for about 2 months. There was a great deal of hype about this party, with Jess even promising to bring back a leg of ham from Australia for the occaision. At one time there was a rival Christmas party which left her thinking no one was going to show. As a result she invited the crew from her work. The other party fell through making Jess the star attraction with a party of more than 40 people. I sadly spent most of Christmas day in bed feeling sorry for myself or sleeping, in-between attempts to watch some Jackie Chan movie.

That was two days ago however and yesterday I felt up to attempting solid food. Lacking the strength to bother cooking for myself, I headed out to a trustworthy cafe nearby and picked up the Friday weekly paper - the Nepali Times, I have never read it before, but it was recommended to me.

Just a short aside: I read something the other day that suggested there are two types of bloggers. Reporters and Examiners. Obviously, one reports on events, what I did / ate / defaecated etc. The other actually discusses things, talking about their reactions to certain situations, they report, but they also analyse. I am starting to get the feeling that I am only really reporting on this blog, which makes me a little sad, because I have more to offer than that. I guess I have been a little careful, as I don't want to insult or defame the programme I am on, or the people of Nepal. But sometimes you can be too careful, and I don't want to do that at the sacrifice of sharing my opinion and experiences. OK, thanks for bearing with me on that, end aside..

Getting to the end of an article in Nepali paper tends to give me mixed emotions. Usually shock. You see, although they publish it in English as well as Devanagari, most of the dailies are so poorly translated (or perhaps written in the first place) that it can be a shock to even get to the end without having given up. When you do make it to the end, you often have to go back and read it all again because it either contradicted itself or made no sense in the first place.

Imagine my surprise when I found myself reading the Nepali Times cover to cover. The latest in the schoolyard of political turmoil that is Nepal has developed over the last week. Last Friday, the Nepali Times apparently reported rather negatively on the trade unions antics, or its associations with the Maoist party (effectively those in power - although its supposedly a coalition government). Seeing this as a slight on their party (which in all seriousness it probably was), certain members took it upon themselves to storm Himalmedia's office, physically "intimidate" the journalists there, and light fire to certain parts of their equipment and/or office - sorry, I'm a little confused about the actual details. Their office in one district is actually still under siege, and they haven't been able to print any of their dailies all week.

This week's edition was reporting on the obvious attack this is on the free press - well-perceived as a truly democratic thing. It also highlighted the disunity that exists amongst the Maoist party - with the leadership agreeing on the poor nature of the attacks, but not really promising to put a stop to them. We are seeing a split developing amongst the party that is supposedly trying to unify Nepal.

This is where the examination comes in. Although I actually enjoyed reading the Nepali Times, it was hard not to see it as just the "Opinion" section of any paper. I have not read it each week certainly, so this could be an exception, but as far as newspapers go it appeared at no point to be objective and report the facts. The Maoists/trade union seem to be claiming that they were actually reacting to physical abuse from Himalmedia's managers on several staff they had let go, but as they have only really reported one side of the story I am left a little confused.

Its all well and good to promote a free press, as it is to villify these attacks. However that free press must also report both sides of the news. I fear in this case, the journalists are too close and personally involved in the attacks that it is difficult for them to report objectively, further alienating the Maoists who want their side of it reported too.

Coming from a country with relatively no violent political action I really hate to see people that think violence is the only way of expressing their political opinon. I find it worse that they can get away with it because the police don't have the sophistication (or perhaps the fortitude) to do anything but stand on the corner holding a stick or occaisionally walk down the street with an assault rifle or shotgun. At any rate, the developments following these incidents and the future of this more violent arm of the Maoist party will definitely impact on the future political landscape of the country. I watch in avid fascination.

Swifty Surgery Chhahinchha

2008-12-22T22:38:00.005+05:30

Life is constantly teaching us lessons. Here are a few of the lessons that Nepal taught me today.

1. Mondays are bad days. If you ever wake up and wish you had stayed in bed, then you probalby should have. Your gut instinct is more powerful that you can possibly imagine
2. No shortcuts through unknown suburbs during load shedding. Its dark and unnerving, not to mention you don't know where you are.
3. Never ever believe that you are good enough to leave home without your compass. OK, you have survived 5 months and haven't used it for the last 3, you're special. We get it. Just remember that you will need that compass when you least expect it.
4. No talking on the phone while shortcutting through unknown suburbs during load shedding without a compass. Not only do you have the issues posed by lessopn number 2, but YOU STILL CAN'T SEE ANYTHING, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE and now you only have one hand. Let me just ask one thing "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
5. If you are going to be hit by a motorbike that is also not going to stop to check that you are OK, then make sure you drop your shoulder and give him everything you have got. Make sure he hits the dirt hard. Then, just as he is starting to come around, smack him in the face, then slash his tyres and then kick him in the nads.

That's right team. Swifty needs surgery.

It's a shame actually that an event such as this is what prompts me to realise Swifty did not have a name until now. He needs surgery because he was wiped out by a motorbike with me on top of him. Yes, it was bound to happen, and I know you were all waiting for the event to eclipse the Great Assassination Attempt of January 2005, the Ice Skating Eyebrow Gashing of 1999, the Holy Potato Someone Just Snapped the Back Half of the Car Accident of 2000 (I wasn't driving) and the Big Bastard Pothole Incident of 2006. Today may not have been it, but it was a sight to behold. Had I shown this much prowess during the Ice Skating Eybrow Gashing, then perhaps there would have been more gobsmacked crowd amazement and applause, not to mention less gashing.

It was a T intersection. To be perfectly honest, if you were to call it how it really is, it's a Y intersection. I was going from the straight part into the right branch. A car was going from the right branch to the straight bit. From behind him this motorbike came screaming across my path to go from the right branch to the left branch. We both hit the brakes hard but I knew that we were gonna hit.

Pondering seriously just how much it might hurt this time I was amazed to almost instantaneously find myself standing on one leg with the other somewhere in the air doing a rather awkward kind of half-bicycle mounted pirouette. Swifty's front end sort of flew upwards and (probably) over the motorbike rider and his passenger's head. My leg and the bike came back down to earth and I barely had enough time to realise that I was OK before Old Mate sped off into the distance.

Rather indignant, and not entirely believing that I was really actually 100% OK, and that the most damage to my bike was the front rim and brakes (and maybe a slightly mangled chain) I managed to fire off a swear word or two at him before another passing motorbike rider checked to see that I didn't need any help. I actually really felt for that guy, because he wanted to help me out but I was totally fine.

Let's write down number 6 too. Everything you walk away from is a character building experience!

Bruises, Bureaucracy and Fruit

2008-12-19T15:49:00.001+05:30

Just a few short notes:

1. The sahuni (shop lady) at the shop near my house, which is really just a window into her house that people buy stuff from, sold me a 20L bottle of water based on the trust method. Mainly because she couldn't (or wouldn't) break my 1000 rupee note. This means one of may things:
a) I am super trustworthy and will come back with 80 rupees when I have it
b) everyone in the neighbourhood knows me and is keeping better tabs on me than the CIA
c) she didn't want to lose my water business to the big department store 20m away - which i was heading towards..
d) she just didn't want to break my 1000 rupee note

2. If bureaucracy is strangling Australia, it is snapping the neck of Nepal. I want to make a very small change that will probably seem insignificant and petty to you, but will make the lives of at least 20 staff members a bucketload easier. Every patient has a registration date (date they first come here), a visit date (the supposed date of this particular visit) and a bill date (the supposed date they paid the bill). Its pretty simple. I want them to record the day that the patient visits in the Visit Date field and the date they paid the bill in the Bill Date field rather than abstract dates made up in the corner of the mind of some guy sitting in the corner. This will apparently cause issues for Accounting (that's what I expected, that would happen at home too), but when I suggested going to Accounting to discuss the issue with them, I was told "no, we cannot do that. They are senior to me, I don't have enough authority to talk to them."

"OOOOOOOOOOOkay, who does have enough authority to talk to them?"

"Mr X does"

"But Mr X is the person that told us we have to talk to Accounting"

"Yes, but he didn't give us permission to go."

"We only want to ask them a simple question"

[mini teary approaching] "I don't have authority to speak directly with them.." URGGH

3. In other news, suppose you have 100 apples, and you are doing a study on them. 40 of them have worms, 60 have no worms but do have a deformity. Both wormed and deformed apples may have bruising, high intra-appular pressure or a glycaemic imbalance, or not, or any mixture of the above.

Even if 35 of the wormed apples and 59 of the deformed apples have bruising, it is a fallacy to say that bruising or those other diseases is a cause of both worms and deformity in all fruit, because you don't have any bananas, oranges, kiwi fruit or ringos to compare them to, just apples. If you wanted to make a claim for all fruit, then you would have had to include other fruits in your study. Hard enough as it was for you to read that, imagine explaining it with humans, eyes a language barrier and 5 minutes (which is the amount of time I get with the doctor doing this study on "fruit" each day).

Although I am going insane, remember that when I was sane, I loved you all.

100 Kilometres From Where?

2008-12-16T08:20:00.005+05:30

How did I end up here?

It's a good question, and it can be tracked back to an email I sent more than a month ago. "Who's up for a rafting and/or taking out bikes to Pokhara and riding around its foothills weekend?"

This was met with a positive response in general, but none were more excited than Mike, an Engineering student from the States (you may remember him from the rockclimbing adventure with Flo). "Dude, we definitely need to do something of the sort. I've ony got a few weekends left. I think we also need to add to the list 'set a Hash' and that idea I had, 'hiring motorbikes and riding to [some town in India] that I have heard is really amazing'".

As time progressed, the plan became smaller and smaller. "OK, we've only got 3 weekends left, maybe we can raft, set a hash and do the motorbike thing". Another weeekend passes, "we really need to organise that rafting trip..." You know how it is with these things.

With one weekend left and no adventure planned, things were getting serious. I even consulted Gunga on the topic. "You know my brother-in-law is a trekking guide, he can organise for you!" Lo and behold, ten minutes later, Gunga's brother-in-law walked into the shop. We had a chat, and all things seemed go for the rafting trip.

Friday night rolled around and there were still no bookings, nor 100% committed participants. Friday night also happened to be the night of Katherine and my Birthday Bash. Dinner at the Thakali Kitchen (our fav restaurant) and a night actually out in Thamel allowing ourselves to cut loose just a little bit. I got some amazing presents, a lovely photo album from the guys at work, an wicked scarf (more on that later) from K&S, and a fantastic beanie from SS&D.

[I also got a dustbuster from A&G which I had been going on about for months]

More than a little tipsy from the new discovery I made on the Thakali Kitchen menu (Red Rakshi with deep fried rice floating in it) I approached Mike with an idea. "Mike, I think the rafting plan is sunk, we haven't got anything organised, and I probably won't be home before 2 tonight, which makes an erly start on Sat kind of difficult. Plus, I really woudn't mind doing the Hash tomorrow."

"Thank God you said that, I would love to Hash for my last weekend! But what else are we gonna do instead?"

"We're going to Tibet."

"What?"

"We're gonna meld your India plan with a new one. We're renting motorbikes and riding to Tibet (well, the border anyway)." A short consultation with Raju confirmed the ditance, and also that he was available on Saturday morning to teach me to ride a motorbike. And Mike was locked in. The other 14 people at our party (which was amazing BTW) were shocked with the random spontaneity of the plan, and to be honest, so was I.

Never-the-less, come 11 o'clcok Saturday morning and Raju was waiting for me at the car park of the hospital for my motorbike lesson. With a lesson plan shorter than a dwarf's pinkie finger, the lesson wass over inside 20 minutes, with me stalling once, making it through some bricks (which were acting as witch's hats) and only looking like falling over once, Raju gave me the rubber stamp and my "licensing" was over.

Following an awesome Hash (which I rate 10+), Mike and I headed back to Thamel to investigate renting motorbikes. Hesitantly giving up my passport to the guy behind the counter of the corner store from which we were borrowing motorbikes, handing him about 10 dollars (being all it cost for an entire day with a motorbike) we were set. We took a short ride out to Diana's house (just out of town), by way of a warm up. This proved to be enough time to show that (big surprise) Kathmandu traffic is INSANE, and also enough time for Mike to have a fender bender. He was lucky enough to get out of it by giving a small token for repairs.

Early Sunday morning (in darkness so black it would give a black hole a run for its money, along with nut shrinkingly freezing weather) I rode out to the Ring Road to meet Mike. This ride of less than 10 minutes was enough to give me images of frostbite and make me question the sanity of this drunken commitment to ride 4-5 hours on a motorbike in a foreign country, in an attempt to see over the border into Tibet (only group trips can get visa approval, and even that is difficult). I did however manage to manufacture a very warm little ecosystem inside my new scarf, by joining the powers of a motorbike helmet and my new beanie, so my face retained a good deal of heat that was then lost through my fingers.

After 1.5 hours in the saddle and only three or four wrong turns, we stopped to grab "breakfast" from a local men's club. Men's clubs can generally be found anywhere in the country. They usually involve at least a bench, a stove, a vat of tea and/or beer and a bunch of guys sitting around usually in silence. Occaisionally one will say something philosophical to which the others will laugh and/or retort. At least one will be wearing a phenomenonally fashionable hat, another will be smoking in a bizarre fashion (in which you create a vaccuum with your hand in order not to let your mouth touch the cigarette) and another will be reading the paper.

We had beautiful scenery to watch when we weren't avoiding landslides, rackfalls or generally unsafe terrain. It was exhilirating to ride on such an quiet road - particularly after the first day of my ride to Pokhara (the main route from India to Nepal). The reason it is quiet is because it is reportedly cheaper to ship goods from China to India and then drive them to Kathmandu that it is to drive them from China itself.

The border itself was a massive let down. The town at the top of the hill on the Nepali side was kind of like any other town. Some falling apart buildings, bucketloads of trucks waiting to get across the bridge and a bunch of shops catering to the truckies and/or potential shoppers waiting to nip across to get a bargain on electrical goods and a ratty Nepali flag obstinantly standing still in the breeze. The Tibetan side was the inverse. Some very fancy buildings, grand golden Chinese characters and a giant fancy Chinese flag flapping away.

Trying his luck, Mike and I started to walk along to bridge completely amazing that none of the 50 armed Nepali police had yet asked us what we were doing. The 2 chinese soldiers standing on a line painted halfway along the bridge (can you believe that?) however, had a very different way of running things. They looked us up and down, smiled at each other, and then one said simply "no". Mike made some feeble gestures, gave them his passport, which they went through every page of, looked back at him, laughed and said "no".

From there we backtracked to a small town called Tatopaani (literally "hot water") and took a dip in the hot springs. A beer on a rooftop overlooking the river and looking at the wall of mountain on the other side that was effectively Tibet was a nice way to end our visit, and we made the return trip in just over 4 hours. I fashioned a new item of clothing for the return trip, as it was warmer but more dusty. This also worked wonders.

It was a fantastic getaway, and a great way to spend Mike's last weekend in Nepal.

The Summit

2008-12-15T08:12:00.000+05:30

I’ve been asked a few times why I am here. I think this quote I saw plastered on a friend’s wall the other day sums it up quite well:

You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. - René Daumal, 1908 - 1944

Egg Nog at Christmas

2008-12-10T14:39:00.004+05:30

Hi Dr Bob!

I have a quick and hopefully entertaining question. Does Egg Nog at Christmas pose a health risk (aside from the obvious problems associated with intoxication)? I was hoping to make some for the crew, but it contains raw egg and I don't really want to be responsible for 10 other AYADs' deaths.

It probably fails the boil it, peel it, cook it or leave it rule, but I thought I'd check. One bright spark suggested that the alcohol "cured" any disease in the egg, but I didn't really believe them.

Cheers
Rob

Ayad Intake 22
Nepal

"Jatra"

2008-12-08T20:39:00.003+05:30

My first weekend back from a big week in Australia, I was really looking forward to a few days packed with ex-patness. What better way than to start Friday afternoon with round of karaoke at the place next toe Mike's Breakfast, you say? Well yes. The plan was to follow that up with a nice brunch on Saturday at somewhere outrageously expensive, hit the Hash, and then kick on the to the Scottish night of dancing that Becci politely invited me along to.

Remembering that I was determined to get a little bit more involved with my work colleagues, who had so far been immune to my approaches for a Friday afternoon drink, I invited Nhukesh - the one most likely to say yes - along to karaoke. Unsure what he had signed himself up for, he was appropriately nervous. I think its safe to say that he had a whale of a time. He might not have been an expect at most of the English songs we were singing, but he was the most unbelievable backup dancer we could have ever hoped for.

As happens with most activities in Nepal with less than 24 hours notice on that Friday night, Nhukesh asked me if I could go to his house on Saturday to see his village's festival. The celebrations were scheduled from about 2pm - midnight. Horribly aware of the clash this proposed not only to my addiction to Hash, but the massively anticipated Scottish dancing night (with the guarantee of a nip of whiskey at the door) I found myself in a little dilemma. While in Australia, I confessed my concerns that I wasn't really getting into the culture all that much, with the exception of Bhai Tika day. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I needed exercise more than a nip of whiskey and I piked on poor Becci and my other Scottish friends (who I am sure had a marvelous time without me destroying everything in my path on the dance floor).

I went to the Hash (which was out the arse end of nowhere) and then called Nhukesh (pretty exhausted) to find out where I had to go for this festival. He came to pick me up from Jawalakhel and took me to the Municipality of Kiritipur (about 10km away) where his village of Nagoun is located. He took me on a tour of the village and then to his parents' house where we sat down to eat a very special Newari meal.

Said meal consisted of:
- something that resembled pig fat that was white and jelly textured, I was assured that it was boiled buffalo meat (called Tarkha), specifically prepared for the evening. It tasted pretty much like what you would expect when you see something that resembles pig fat with the texture of white jelly flopping around on your plate
- a red coloured version of the above - "careful Rob-ji, this one is spicy" - and spicy it was - let me assure you
- beaten rice (this was my saviour) - pretty much a found of chiplike chunks of rice
- curried soy beans (another saviour)
- curried pickles - there was nothing particularly alarming about these - except that Nhukesh said - I don't think your stomach will handle that - its very hard to enjoy a particular food item if you are already having images of lonely hours on the family dunny

I was able to wash it all down with 3 different concoctions:
- rice beer (Thoa [in Newari] or Jaad [in Nepali])
- rice wine (Rakshi - good old Rakshi - imagine the heaviest wine you have ever drunk - now double it - that's about half as strong as this stuff)
- red rice beer (Yhamu-Thoa - stronger than the Rakshi this had a hint of that red flavour [you know, like the thing that makes strawberry ice cream taste like strawberry ice cream even though we all know its not strawberries, or red cordial - that kind of thing])

I listened in on the conversations but unfortunately I couldn't follow any of it, and was extremely frustrated for about 10 minutes, wondering why on earth I had spent any money at all on Nepali lessons. It was about that point that Nhukesh pointed out that they were speaking Newari - their ethnic dialect.

From there we went out on the town to see the villagers massing outside a house. Soon enough, their brought out an idol of the god Bal Kumari (Kumari is the word for a female virgin apparently). They loaded the little guy up in a shoulder mounted chariot, and we were led by 4 trumpets, 4 drums too many sets of cymbals and the chariot down the main street towards the temple on the other side of town that was to be Bal Kumari's home for the night. People came out of their homes to give offerings, one lady even had what looked to be a bottle of cough syrup on her offering plate. In her defence, it has been getting really cold, and Bal is going to have to hang out in a temple exposed to the elements all night. The journey was only about 200m, but with many drunk men and all the women and children with their offerings - it was slow going. Nhukesh and his friend Sunil cranked up the dancing again and there are a few photos of me getting into it as well.

At a few point I thought that some people were objecting to the movement of the chariot, because they kept pushing the guys carrying it backwards. After questioning Nhukesh on the point however it turns out that they were all just playing. Is very special to get a chance to carry the chariot, so many people jostle and push each other for fun, and if you happen to fall over or let go of the chariot, then someone will take over your place. You have to be tough!!!!

I'm not sure why we moved Bal Kumari, but it was a hell of a ride.

[photos to come - when Nhukesh remembers to bring his camera to work]

FAQ's from the Few

2008-12-03T20:18:00.000+05:30

I have just returned from my one week jaunt in Australia. Racking my brains for the best way to describe it on the blog all the way back "home" to Kathmandu, all I could think of were the thousand questions I was asked while I was home. The best way to do it, is probably answer them.

1. What are you doing back here? I thought you were in Nepal?
Well namely, I am back for my DJ's wedding, to be the best man. Secretly however, it is all a ruse, to see my girlfriend, catch up with family, go to my grandfather's funeral (who politely waited until the week before I returned, cheers Granfer, thanks for letting me be there) give a short speech at my old church about life in Nepal and generally get a break from a rather epic 4 month stint in Nepal.

2. How long are you back for?
Unfortunately, only an emotionally rollercoasteringly action packed week.

3. How long does it take to get here?
17 hours, not including the longwinded wait at the single SilAir check in desk at Kathmandu airport. Luckily, this being the small city that it is, Crazy Neighbour Lady's son worked as a checkin dude for Thai Airways. Unluckily he couldn't speed me through, but he did keep me company for a bit, probably contributing to the wait for the Thai Airways customers.

4. Are you going to want to go back after having a taste of Australia again?
I'm not a quitter, I'll be going back. 8 months will fly by!

5. I thought you were in Nepal? You are aren't you?
No, I'm standing in front of you.

6. Are the Nepali chicks hot?
Yes, they are. In a generally conservative way though. But they can definitely make you turn your head.

7. What's the first thing you noticed about being back in Australia? Do you have reverse culture shock?
No reverse culture shock, but the easiest thing to notice is the obese people. And the fact that they probably don't consider themselves obese at all. I actually think that one of the biggest barriers to beating the "obesity epidemic" is the fact that we not only can't acknowledge when we ourselves actually ARE obese, but that it is socially taboo to actually say it to someone. I mean, you can say "you broke your leg", or "you look like you have a cold", but you can't say "dude, looks like you're tipping the scales to morbidly obese, gonna do something about it?"

8. [Struggling for questions here] Want some steak?
Strangely no, I thought I would be fanging for a steak when I got back, but actually, at dinner on Thursday, when ordering dinner at the Spotted Cow, a place known for its steak, I was toying with the idea of a chicken burger. It's a very strange feeling. I also didn't go out for breakfast while I was back. Two of my favourite things...hmmm.

9. Was the groom nervous?
No, he was not. He even managed to get through about 400 people asking him that. Of course, until the moment she came through the archway to the chapel. From that moment, he didn't know where to stand, where to look or which foot to put his weight on.

10. This one is actually a series of questions from a rather blonde checkout chick at a Brisbane Duty Free shop:
Girl: Where are you going? Kathmandu.
Girl: Where's that?
Me: [sigh][roll eyes][realise she did not notice or was incredibly polite] Nepal
Girl: Where's that?
Me: [furrow eyebrows in a "did you really just ask me that" kind of way] Asia
Girl: Like, what country is it near?
Me: It's between India and China.
Girl: Oh. Do you know what the alcohol limits they have there?
Me: No.
[to co-worker] Do you know where Nepal is? Yes.
Girl [to me]: What are the alcohol limits there?
Me: I don't know, I've never worked at a Duty Free store that sells alcohol at an airport before. Has no one ever bought

alcohol with the intention of going to Nepal? Don't you have a book to look it up in?
Girl: Oh, yeah.... OK, you can take a quart, how much is that?
Me: [sigh] Just give me the stuff, I'll pay a duty if they check my bags, which I very much doubt.

A Bandh For You Today Sir?

2008-11-20T17:12:00.001+05:30

"Waiter! What's this bandh thing?"

"Well sir, it's an entertaining dish, I suppose you could say."

"Well, for goodness sake, what does it take to make one?"

"Oh, that's easy, pick up the newspaper on any given day and you will find some 200 reasons to make a bandh."

"Really? It doesn't take much then? Go ahead, give me the details."

"The thing is, not everyone agrees on the ingredients and at the end of it all, more often that not, no one can really remember exactly what went into it. There are always rumours afterwards, any of which could have been the main ingredient. Of course, there are your staple items that can always be counted on. Those would be:

One. A group of impressionable teenagers.

Two. A band of delinquent young men

Three. Rocks, tyres, bricks, sticks, and eventually shotguns, rifles, riot gear and big police sticks

Four. Said groups of young people block roads, force transport not to move, force shop keepers to shut up for the day, and close schools.

and Five, to quote V for Vendetta, 'what will happen?', 'what usually happens when people without guns stand up to people WITH guns'"

"OK, but your last one, for example, what was in it?"

"According to popular belief there were at least three major things:

One. Two students were kidnapped some time ago, much like how it used to happen...you know, during the insurgency. Yesterday they were found dead, perhaps with knife wounds, perhaps not. No one actually knows who murdered them, but popular belief is that the Maoists were involved. Yes, I see the question you are about to ask, they would be the political party leading the insurgency and who are now (effectively) in power and have promised that this kind of thing doesn't happen anymore. The young delinquent men often conclude that obviously it IS happening right now and thus mass in large groups waiting for the slightest excuse to get a little bit violent.

Two. You remember the fuel crisis a while back? Well, transport prices went up, didn't they? They haven't come back down since petrol became available again. Students tend to get upset about these things.

Three: Some people are upset that the private schools have money. Or that people can afford to send their children to private schools. Or that they have to pay too much to send their children to private schools. Or something. I do know that it involved private schools, money and a bunch of generally grumpy people.

Having said that it could be anything that goes into it. I've heard of another ingredient being the proposal to break the country into autonomous states, and in another, the government refused to provide public money for the ritual sacrifice of animals."

"Right, I think I understand, well, what's it good for?"

"One. It's a good excuse not to go to work for the day.

Two. Boys love hanging around in groups destroying things.

Three. It's a crude but effective way of getting the government or other people to do what you want. Take the animal sacrifice example, I believe they got their money back.

Four: It gives those involved a rush and a feeling of power over others - you may choose to see this as a negative, but I'm calling it a positive, only for those involved though.

Five. Usually bideshis and bicycle or motorbike riders are left alone. It's just cars, buses, trucks and shops that people seem to get angry at."

"So the drawbacks?"

"Well, pretty much the flip side of all the good things. If no one is at work, then no work is being done. If boys are destroying things, the guy that owns them usually gets upset, or has to pay to fix it. Being such an effective way of getting your way, it is positively reinforced, next time there's a problem, everyone will remember how effective the last bandh was. If people like the feeling of having power over others, well, we know how useful that really is. Bidesh or not, it's a sure way to get you nercous about whether you will get to the airport on time tomorrow..."

"I'll have the chicken..."

Bats and Bricks

2008-11-18T14:47:00.000+05:30

I'm a mahout on an elephant being pushed up the stairs. I'm alone with a cricket bat in a china shop except for the timid bull sitting in the corner. I'm bashing my head against a pillow while leaning on a brick wall. I'm pulling teeth from a baby and ripping hair from a bald man. I'm juggling 2 knives, an angry cat and an anvil Wile E Coyote style while singing Click Go the Shears.

In short, I am going batty and this weekend can't come fast enough.

Rockclimbing, Puri Sabji, Banana Splits and the Bookclub

2008-11-17T22:17:00.005+05:30

What an EPIC weekend to end an epic week.

Friday night was Katherine and I relaxing at home watching DVD's. The problem with a plan like this, as I will illustrate when I get around to doing a "characters" post on Katherine, is her inexplicable ability to fall asleep the moment any part of her body reaches a parallel angle to the ground. 10 minutes into the movie she was a goner.

Early up on Saturday to join Flo and Mike and head towards Nagarjun forest, where Flo had been a number of times before on the advice of someone that told someone to tell his fiancee that it was a good place to go rockclimbing. The place is so out of the way that that's a rather normal way for you to hear about it. It was the party of people from countries beginning and ending with 'A', with representatives from Oz, the US and the land of the Sound of Music.

[Flo, trying to keep me alive and save me from myself]

They were amazing climbers and I was a total novice, I don't think I held them back too much though, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely. I'm still sore. We did get the chance to meet Freddie Wilkinson. Sound like someone important? No? Well, I'll have you know that he's a pretty famous climber. Yeah, I didn't know either, Mike was impressed though (he did well to hide his awe, except for that moment where he went "DUDE! That's Freddie Wilkinson!").

[Mike trying to be all nonchalant]

Leaving the forest I spotted one gigantic monkey. This big guys testicles were off the scale (if there even is a scale for such things). He was easily scared though, as two baby monkeys invaded his territory and moved on. Those things are so agile they scare me, youj never know if they are gonna go for your eyes or not. He didn't get away before we could knock off a few impressions:

Rockclimbing was followed by a rather intense nap, that left me wondering whether I was actually awake or just severely drugged. You know, when you sleep for a little bit too long in the afternoon?

I went to meet up with Flo, Mike and Mike's roommate Mana. Mike and Mana are Dartmouth students her working on Engineering Internships with a Nepali NGO. They do pretty cool stuff like pull apart batteries and attempt to reverse engineer Nokia stuff, and in their spare time they build bridges. They both have blogs going (checkout my links to the right to see what they have been doing [and their versions of the stories I have been telling], they're not all lies).

We had dinner at a place that Mike has been raving about for weeks. Puri Sabji was the order of the day for 30 rupes (about 50c). Potato curry that you shove into a thin puffy little bread thing. It was fabulous! And you get about 5 of them! I will be going back for more.

We followed this up with drinks and banana split sundaes back at Mana & Mike's house. There we were joined by Avi, Gemma and Annette(from Norway) and Katherine (who again pulled off her imitation of a tall blonde American with a sleeping disorder. They couldn't get us out of their house until about 1am. Just for future reference, after the first glass, Nepali whiskey isn't all that bad.

Monday night saw the inaugural meeting of the AYAD book club, with appearances from special guests Liz and Sanjana (whom I accidentally called Sandika - for no apparent reason other than a completeinability to remember Nepali names). Liz is an American I was introduced to by Lena and Sanjana works with Gemma, Annette, Katherine, Danielle, Sascha and Kat at Save the Children ("SAVE THEM! SAVE THEM!" - actually, with that many people to look after them, I hope they'll be ok).

We have been reading a book called the White Tiger by Aravind Adiga. I think its an absolutely fantastic bok that I got right into (I still haven't finished yet, as it proved mighty hard to find, and the Tihar festival got in the way of deliveriess, "come back tomorrow sir....not today sir, maybe tonight....no sir, please come tomorrow"). My enthusiasm was met by equal enthusiasm in the opposite direction with the others finding no sympathy for the protagonist, an Indian servant turned murderer . I don't have any sympathy for him, but I did appreciate his cynicism and wit. Check it out, it won the 2008 Man Booker Prize.
The bookclub will reconvene in 1 month to read "Snow" by....... [someone] set in Turkey.

Good Intentions

2008-11-14T15:34:00.006+05:30

So, the much heralded trip to Boudnath temple was a failure amidst a victory.

After doing a few laps of the stupa we (somehow) managed to get about 10 of us onto a rooftop restaurant. The problem with a group of more than 5 people is that they don't tend to act like sheep except for when you don't want them to. So when you are a hungry shepherd, and you just want everyone to follow you they may not. In the end you might just say "screw you all" and hope they work out where the rest of you are.

Anyway, the reason that we had to do a few laps of the stupa is because you must walk around a stupa clockwise, for fear of the gods or God, or something, smiting you. Now although the idea of seeing something smiting brings a smile to my face (as I imagine it's not exactly something you would see every day) it also wasn't soemthing I wanted to risk for fear of being labelled culturally intolerant or, more importantly being trampled. I did see one guy trying to go anti-clockwise on a bicycle. I think it would have been faster for him to do 10 laps clockwise than to travel 10 metres.

There were THOUSANDS* of people - tourists, Buddhists, Hindus and tourist Buddhists (complete with whacky clothes) out doing the walk. We were there because supposedly the stupa is lit up like a runway every month at the full moon. After the sun setting, and still nothing happening but many local shopkeepers setting up tables and lighting thousands** of candles on laying them out on tables in front of their shops. A ceremony was taking place with some monks chanting and blowing into conches (Lord of the Flies style) and horns while passing people threw food onto a pile (that they had bought from the entrepeneur who set up a shop next to the pile). I'm not sure what happens to it after, but I hope it goes to someone needy (it was a VERY big pile of food).

We retreated to our rooftop balcony to have some drinks and dinner. After about an hour, it occurred to someone to actually ask why the stupa was not lit up yet. Completely baffled, we asked the waiter, who suggested (in that "I'm answering even though I don't think I understood your question" kind of way) that it "might" have happened yesterday but he wasn't sure. Someone (it might have been me) suggested that he thought that the full moon was on the Wednesday. This was all devastating news to poor Mike, who had been planning this expedition since Monday with email trails a million*** miles long from volunteers trying to avoid doing work.

It did leave a few riddles.
1. Why on earth had they lit all of these candles just to have them sit on tables outside shops?
2. Why were there so many people walking around if it wasn't a special occaision?

Someone suggested that perhaps, unlike many Christians, Buddhists and Hindus might not especially wait for special occaisions to go to worship or meditate, or do what they do. I think we'll have to wait for the next full moon to find out.

The night was still claimed a success from the good food, company and that anticipatory feeling you get when you know something cool is about to happen (even though it didn't).

This is something like what we missed:

* OK, maybe hundreds
** no, this time there actually were thousands
*** not actually "millions" - maybe one million****
**** probably not though

An Invitation From Mike I Couldn't Refuse

2008-11-12T14:24:00.000+05:30

Friends, on this coming Thurs-eve, under ye newly full lit moon glowering in ye carbon molecule and particulate matter smog haze, by bicycle, cab, tuktuk, and goat we shall make haste nor'east, yonder where lies ye great Stupa of Boudhanath. Ere, on ye full moon eve lay ten hundred thousand score lit-candles, flick'ring whence we ambulate clock-wise of ye stupa in "Kora." Complete ye Kora, and we'll all dine on banana split sunday's at our flat when the clock strikes nine times.

Come or come not if ye will, but come with a bike if ye can.

The Good Bits

2008-11-10T19:28:00.007+05:30

So apparently I have been making it sound like Nepal is unbearable. I have absolutely no idea what would give anyone that impression, but thought I would make a post of all the really cool stuff that has happened or that I see everyday, or that puts a smile on my face. I warn you now, if I ever complain, its usually because I find negative things rather more comical. I think most people do. That's why we have sitcoms, and like watching people cry on Big Brother. Misery is more entertaining than a list of happy feel-good things.

Nevertheless, let's stop wasting time:

Raju lifting the phone of the hook, taking his shoes off, putting his feet up on the desk and saying, "Rob, I sleep", and promptly doing so.

- Copping out on my Halloween costume and just going as a "local biker" - this is what I wear to work everyday BTW, (sans 2Pac shirt obviously, that was there to make me more "local", I just couldn't find a Britney Spears shirt to look hardcore)

Rosie after the Halloween party in an effort that just goes to prove that you never can exaggerate the danger of sewage filled manholes.

Trekking awesome-ness

Hashing goodness

The amazing people that I have met here (I have more than one for every single day). I made a specific list just to see how many I had. Its an amazing list, with entries such as "chow mein guy", "chow mein guy's wife", mohan's family, "grumpy fruit man" but also such amazing names as all the other AYADs and various volunteers I have become friends with, Raj, Gunga, oh yeah! And the "loud female rights activist lady".

["smiling kiosk dude" from work]

The "Australian Big Day Out in Kathmandu" - a bizarre spectacle of 'Australian culture' right here in the Du. Complete with dancing and of course, man-love.

The local equivalent to a lorry passing me on the way to work.

Monkeys!

Sunrise over the Du.

Characters > Bhoj Raj

2008-11-05T23:02:00.005+05:30

Bhoj Raj G/aut/am is a fascinating creature that I see daily at work. He is very affectionate, highly intelligent, looks like he is about to cry just about most of the time, says thankyou one or two more times than necessary in a single conversation, is a Brahmin (very high caste status), can go by the nickname of Bhoju - although I am not prepared to get that familiar with him, lest he start trying to hold my hand in public- and is probably not quite as good at English as he thinks he is. This is fine, as my Nepali is a long way short of his English, I'm just setting the scene here.

Bhoj Raj, as has been pointed out before has appointed himself the "Rob Nepali Guru" meaning, he tries to teach me Nepali. Usually, this results in him saying things to me very quickly and pausing meaningfully while waiting for me to respond. This usually results in a 20 minute conversation where I mainly try and work out exactly which is the new word he is trying to teach me, as it is not either clear or easy to pronounce. Any attempt to get him to repeat a sentence prompts some kind of cognitive reset function resulting in him saying something completely different with no memory of having said something different 10 seconds before.

Today he told me his love story. "You and I are very alike Rob-ji," he starts, "we are both very young to be married, and both our wives are NURSES!" OK, so I lied when I got here, telling everyone that my girlfriend was actually my wife. Something I did on the advice of some Nepalis living in Australia who suggested it would "just be easier" when she comes to visit. Unfortunately, that won't be for a bloody long time, and in the meantime I have to keep together this web of lies that not only had us married before we started going out, but involves a honeymoon in Thailand (a place I have never been to) and means that I pretend to actually own a home.

Me: Are you in an arranged marriage? (FYI, options are love marriage or arranged marriage - about 50/50)
BR: NO NO! I am in a love marriage. But the story around my wedding is very strange.

The short of it is that Bhoj Raj met his wife, Urmila, while working at a hospital in Pokhara, over time they got to know each other rah, rah, rah. Where this gets interesting is around the point where Urmila's parents start to look for a good husband to set her up with. They found a nice chap. A businessman I believe that might or might not have known something about engineering.

She refused to marry him saying that she was in love with somebody else. You can almost see the scene now can't you? Demanding to know who it was, Urmila's father set out on a mission to discover more about the mysterious (and in my opinion over-friendly) ophthalmic assisstant.

You see, although you might not quite understand it, I most certainly don't, Nepal works (less and less nowadays, but it exists nevertheless) on a caste system. I haven't got a great grasp on it except to say that if you are a Brahmin, then you are pretty much ok, you have quite a lot of status, are likely to be able to afford education and won't be going begging. What I did not understand is that even among the various castes, there are ranks. Although Urmila is also a Brahmin [YAY], unfortunately poor Bhoj Raj is a lower rank than her [poo].

Her parents refused to allow her to see him and demanded that he come and see them alone. Afraid that they would be waiting with a bevvy of large brutish family members to do him an injustice, he refused to go unless he could take friends. As I understand it (and I am sure I have got part of this wrong) eventually they came to the conclusion that they could be together only if BR agreed to marry her the next day at temple, or the whole thing was off and Urmila's father would not take part in it at all.

It was 2pm in the afternoon and BR wasn't expecting this particular development. He had no money for a dowry (also required) and none of his relations knew anything about this. Apparently he went crazy that afternoon, finding special clothes, contacting relations to tell them about the wedding and borrowing some money and or gifts for a dowry. And the next day they were married. That was back in February, and unfortunately she is in Pokhara for now and he in Kathmandu.

He really is a character and always has a smile on his face (if it does look like he is also about to break out in tears).

[on the left - yes, the over-affectionate one]

Bhai Tika Day

2008-10-30T20:35:00.001+05:30

This has been an incredibly big week. Should I talk about the insane ride up the hill with the warning: "This mountain has 15 to 50 degree inclines..." or the fact that for most of that ride our tires were spinning on the rocks because there wasn't a "road" so much as, well, rocks.

Should I tell you about the fact that the town is lit up as if it was Christmas? With children running around the streets letting off firecrackers? Occaisionally the odd firework will fly overhead as you walk down the street staring at all the decorations hanging from the shop windows that seemed to miraculousy appear overnight.

Actually I'll tell you about the cultural experience I had today. It was none to soon either. I have been wondering if I have not been fully embracing the amazing culture that surrounds me as I pass my year in this strange place. I can't explain to you what all the festivals are. I can't explain why people believe and do some of the things that they do. Today however, I had a great time at my counterpart's house.

He called me this morning, and instructed me to meet him at Koteshwor Tempo Park at 11 where he would give me a ride to his place. That was an adventure itself, and a story for another time. Turned out I was following him (me on bicycle, him on motorbike - yet another adventure) and we arrived at his house and he introduced me to his family. His sister, mother, son, daughter and brothers. I had to guess who the other people were, and I think I came to the right conclusion with wife and nephews.

Today, sisters prey for the long life of their brothers and give them a very special 'tika' (the cool little spot on the forehead that most people put on each day at temple). In return, brothers give their sister a gift. The women were inside preparing the meal while we sat outside and akwardly shot the breeze. The young boys were staring at me like a monster from the Trapdoor, not sure whether to speak or poke me and run away.

We were called inside and I was given my designated place. Arrayed in front of us on the floor were lots of colours and fruits. Mohan's sister went through Mohan and his brothers dropped some oil on our heads. Mohan's daughter (I feel horrible because I can't remember any of their names) did the same thing for her brother and cousins and then for me. They then poured flower petals over our heads and for some reason we found ourselves balancing walnuts up there as well. As the process continues the boys all became more comfortable and familiar with me, joking all the time. Mohan's daughter then gave me a little Nepali man's hat (YAY! I finally have one) and more flowers.

Then she pulled out the paints (all sorts of colours, made out of various fruits and foods) and gave us each a base layer of yellow with purple, red, pink and orange dots. Then we got a wad of sticky banana-rice redness whacked up above that. I'll put the photos up tomorrow. Afterwards she lit the wick of a candle for each of us and we threw flower petals over it. The ceremony appeared to conclude when grandma (she looks so much like a grandma - she was adorable) ran (actually ran) outside with our walnuts and started crushing them with a brick. Apparently it was very important that this occur at the same time as some other unseen (and unintroduced person) set off a firecracker in time with each one and Mohan's daughter passed us a boiled egg and a bowl of curd (yogourht) which we were apparently meant to eat. I was obviously a special guest, as I was also given a dried out fish (not part of a fish, or a fish fillet, a dried out fish, head and all). It was really special and I felt like a part of their family for the day.

We then had some food (which I thought was lunch) and then I asked the boys to teach me how to play carromboard (a fantastic game slightly similar to pool but without sticks or balls). The younger of us gave Mohan's daughter 'tika' (just the quishy sticky rice-banana redness) while the elders gave it to Mohan's sister. We followed this up with a present, I had already given them them a box of sweets so had to resort to money, which I understood was quite OK. Then an entire meal of Daal Bhat (sometimes, you really just can't eat that much rice) and I came home.

This is a very typical Newari custom (that usually occurs at night time) but we had it at lunch today as they were going to Mohan's wife's family's house for the same ceremony (kind of like at Christmas where you need to go to the party for both sides of the family).

As I rode home, many people pointed out my flower petals (still sticking to my hair) and noted my 'tika'. I felt less bideshi today.

Extra: Forgot to mention that yesterday was Newari New Year. Like I said, it's been a busy week.

Mero Charpi Explode Chha

2008-10-24T20:03:00.004+05:30

My Nepali teacher visited on Wednesday, and, as is his custom, enquired how everything was. Lacking the liunguistic acumen to explain that I had a party the other night and invited 5 Europeans I had never met before, as many AYADs as can fit into my flat, an American and our Nepali friend Jaya, and that the first of them to use my toilet created a chaos only before seen when the aliens blew up the White House in Independence Day. I started to explain but after a few false starts, a couple of giggles and an illness fried barin I simply said "Mero charpi explode chha". Meaning "my toilet explode is".

It was bound to happen. I mean, obviously, we all knew, it was only a matter of time. I'm surprised he made it this far.to be honest. Perhaps over the course of my three months in country I have become familiar with his habits. I know that when he is flushed he likes to have the flush handle raised back into its regular position. He doesn't like exceedingly large downward pressure applied to the tank and when there is no water in the building tank to refill him, he knows that I am more than willing to use my precious hot water (filled from a seperate tank) to flush him.

Danielle however was not aware of this. She was not aware of the history. Of the pain. Of the three weeks I spent effectively toiletless last time he exploded. She does have a good ear for humour though, as she picked the best time to hatch her dastardly plot. Most people had arrived, and we were all sitting down to a few warm glasses of beer (which the Italian girls claimed to prefer over cold [which has to be a lie, why would anyone PREFER to drink warm beer?]). Danielle sat back down from her visit to my friend the temperamental toilet and I was in the kitchen doling out the warm Everest beer packed in bottles clearly printed with the word Tuborg (a different kind of beer). There was a horrible crashing sound like a ceramic sink smashing all over a ceramic tile floor.

Immediately I had images of what had happened - knowing how much the sink also dislikes downward pressure. Before you knew it, 5 or 6 people were crammed into my bathroom to witness the scene making it impossible for me to get in to see the damage. It was not the sink, as I had feared but poor Charpi. His tank had suicided off the wall, the filling hose had torn itself right off (a brand new one too) and water was shooting out at a flesh damaging rate*. Grabbing the hose I bought for fixing him last time that turned out to be the wrong size but I kept for a moment just like this I put Danielle in charge of holding that while I grabbed Jaya and ran to find Danesh while still having my wits enough about me to grab Jaya to help translate.

Turned out that Jaya had had a little too much rum to speak him own language intelligibly, Danesh managed to work out what was going on and shut off the tank but not before we lost a good 100 litres of water mainly depositing itself on Danielle and myself.

I decided to do the fixing 100% myself this time, not wanting to "bother" Danesh with it and I am happy to say that Charpi is back to 60% functional.**.

*not quite as strong as the Stupid Pressure Hose Incident of 2005
** He's actually only ever at 60%, so I take that as a good effort on my part

Linguistic Adventures II

2008-10-22T15:09:00.000+05:30

I just had the most painful conversation. This post should enlighten you some of the frustrating components of working here.

Because giving you a post full of misspelled Nepali words would not only be pointless but relatively boring, I will attempt to give you the conversation that I attempted to have in Nepali, in English. I do hate to pick on Bhoj Raj, but as he is the self-appointed Nepali-teacher for Rob, it invariably results that he is the one involved in these kinds of conversations.

Rob: Can you give this CD Nhukesh?

Bhoj Raj:No, you mean "Pleeeese give this CD to Nhukesh"

R: S&(* I forgot the "to", Can you give this CD to Nhukesh?

B: No, you mean "Pleeeeese give this CD to Nhukesh".

R: Hang on, wait, what does "pleeeese" mean? I've never heard that before. For second person I should say "pleeeeese give"?

B: Yes.

R: So, first person, "I give....", Second person "pleeeese give....", third person "he give...."

B: yes

R: That doesn't make sense. Do these all have the same meaning? Usually second person is the same as third. I'm asking a question, it sounds like your way is telling me to do something

b: yes.

r: yes, what?

b: yes.

r: [deep breath] is "can you give this to Nhukesh" correct?

b: n-... yes

r: so what does "pleeeese" mean then?

b: is polite.

r: OH! you mean "PLEASE!" you just spell it and say it in a completely different way to how I was taught. That is why I was confused. So "Can you give this CD to Nhukesh" is correct, just not very polite?

b: yes, i mean no.

r: not correct?

b: yes.

r: rajuji?

raju: yeah?

r: Can you give this CD to Nhukesh?

raju: OK [head wobble which is the local equivalent to a nod]

r: bhojraj, raju understands what I am saying.

b: yes, you said it correctly.

r: [loud sigh] so we just had a 20 minute conversation because I forgot "to" in my first sentence? and you were teaching me to say something different to what I wanted?

People make that mistake in English all the time, “You give Nhukesh” – you just shrug and go and give the stupid thing to Nhukesh don’t you? Katherine suggested that Nepalis get “in-country immunity” (which itself is a rather amusing concept) from these kind of mistakes, but the rule is all foreigners must be corrected.

The worst part of all of this is that the CD is still on my desk.

Aside: looking back on that - it lost something in translation*, and I sound like an annoying little poo head.

*the irony is not lost on me

Characters > Gunga the Tea Man

2008-10-21T09:48:00.005+05:30

For those of you that intend to grace me with your presence in this wonderous country there is one place that is sure to be the first of our stops on your own personal guided tour. That stop will be at Gunga's tea shop.

Gunga is quite possibly the happiest man you will ever meet. He has an endearing round face which I have only once seen crossed with a frown. His shop is across the road from the main department store in Lazimpat and is adourned with a clean looking green shopfront with the words "Sagamartha Tea House" printed in grand white letters, "please step in for all kind of Nepali tea, coffee and spices". "Sagamartha" is the Nepali word for Mt . Everest.

On a pinboard out the front are articles regarding tea production in Nepal and a sign quite adamently declaring that "sugar destroys the taste of the tea!" Gunga is a bit of a purist! He can tell you where all of his teas come from, how they are grown, and what ailments they will help you with. He would make a great winemaker, as he even has it down to the art of telling you where in your mouth and how quickly you will feel the flavour of the tea.

As I pass on my bike I always look in to give him a wave and often see him looking through the window out onto the street waiting for someone to visit. I say someone to visit rather than "his next customer" because I don't really think Gunga has customers. In fact, I'm not entirely sure how the man eats, not only because he is always in the slightly claustrophobic shop, but because only rarely do I see the man exchange tea for money. He's usually giving the stuff away (in actual fact I think he is a rather shrewd businessman.

"Please Robji, sit down, have some tea, we will have some tea, what do you like today?"

He encourages all people to come in and will have the kettle boiling before you have even introduced yourself. "If you want to buy, you buy, if you don't, is ok, just come back for a nice cup of tea!" He loves talking to people and has enlightened me quite a bit on the very confusing process that is Nepali politics. His business partner Navin has a similar shop (although a little more cramped) down by New Road but is just as regularly in Gunga's shop helping out, and he educates me on Nepali religion, custom and in particular Newari culture (the Newari's are one of the predominant Kathmandu Valley castes).

Gunga breaks down religion like this, "You be the best person you can be, isn't it? You have good in your heart and you give goodness to others, isn't it?. All religions say this, isn't it? Christian, Hindu, Musleman, Budd-His, isn't it? So I accept you, and I accept you, and in this way the world can have peace and understanding, isn't it?"

"And tea Gunga?" says I.

"Oh yeeess, Peace, Understanding and a cup of tea!"

I Want...

2008-10-16T15:28:00.003+05:30

I'm so not in the mood today. I want to go home.

I want to see my family, and the beach and Lauren.

I want to wake up and have that feeling that I want to get out and go at the world.

I want my favourite TV programs.

I want to kick a footy and to go to a cricket match.

I want to play video games with my friends.

I want to have a conversation and be confident at the end that I understood it all.

I want to walk into the Turret and have Rhi pass over my chai latte.

I want to be back where car horns are used only in the case of dire emergency, even death.

I want to be able to buy milk and drink it without boiling it (oh yeah, I only just found out that I should have been doing that all this time).

"Wahhh!" I hear you say, well yes "waaah". Please no emails of "are you OK? is there anything I can do?", this is a temporary moment and it shall pass.

Maybe it's because I was up in the peaceful mountains for 12 days and I have gone into a state of return from holiday shock. To come back to the pollution and poverty is a bit of a kick in the gut. Speaking of guts, mine is acting up. There's something totally unnatural to me about co-habiting with monkeys, mal-nutritioned cows and stray dogs that lead me to believe that sometimes that the people here just don't care.

OK, I'm going to go and have a nice warm cup of cheer up buttercup.

Oh yeah. Today is 3 months. Maybe it's that.

From ABC - The Other Nut

2008-10-12T18:41:00.000+05:30

From ABC - The Other Nut

In addition to the post of the other day, I left out these important facts:

Day 2 - Jhinu to Dovan

Attack of the Zombie Children, "Give me SWEEEEEEETS, HOOOONNNNEEEEY, CHOCOLATE, SCHOOLPEN". Bryan forced to stop and check they had not taken anything from his bag and treat scratches obtained from children hanging onto his legs. I had to pause momentarily and feel bad about almost chucking one in the creek in order to get past. It started innocently enough, with them singing us a song, but then the wind must have changed or something and they became zombies!

Day 4 - Hiking - Dovan to MBC

Emergence of neck beard. Things have gone from charmingly uncouth to a little bit feral.

Day 5 - Hiking - MBC to ABC and actually Bamboo

Parted ways with Cloe, the insane mountain climbing Belgian.
After climbing down, as I said, to the disgust of my knee, it was apparent Bryan wasn't yet. He hung around above ABC for another hour or so as I got plodded back to MBC.
Together we sped from there to Bamboo, knee in so much pain I found it difficult to continue standing. This will be a recurring theme.

Day 6 - Hiking - Bamboo to Gharjong

Became intimately reacquainted with the Chomrong stairs, knee apparently enjoyed the upstairs action.
Developed fixation on trail mix aka mixed nuts that is more just raisins and coconut than anything else.
Received donation of codeine pills from friendly yet ever still so obnoxious Australians.
Determined NOT to go to Ghurjun, took the road there by accident, got lost, and were found by a funny bald man in gum boots.
Very entertaining conversation with gum booted bald man revolving around 2 syllable English questions and 2 syllable Nepali answers as we quickly realised this little village did not often see trekkers.
Gummy old bald man took us on a shortcut through his farm and sent us packing back up the hill.
My foul mood started getting both of us down, elected to stop at first bed identified, eat food and sleep.
Met Cheech in Gharjong (yes I understand just how similar this name is to Ghurjun), a lovely thin guy about our age just married and managing the family lodge and farm. He put us up for the night and shared some lovely (read disturbing) Maoist stories from the insurgency.
Funny little man playing with a marijuana tree, we thought at first to be simple through his hand gestures describing getting high, eating, being happy and praising the gods.
Turned out he was deaf and he was actually signing to us.
Immediately chastised self for being such an idiot.

Day 7 - Hiking - Gharjong to Tadepani

Mood improved with food and food and the chancce to wash clothes.
Eventually gave up on clothes drying and hung underwear, socks and t-shirts of the back of our packs.
Stopped for the beautiful view at Chuile and were joined by a running Frenchman named Eric.
Learned of Eric's year long plan to travel to 21 countries and learn how each language says cock-a-doodle-doo. Thought it was impossible to be lighter packed or less prepared for the elements than we already were, Eric did not have a backpack but a shoulder bag with a solitary water bottle, a spare pair of pants, a jumper and his camera.
Climbed epic hill number 647 to be rained in at Tadepani (a mere 3 hours from our starting point).
Rejoined by Eric and whiled away the afternoon rain by chatting with the incoming wet people, writing, reading and learning how to say cock-a-doodle-doo in Mandarin, Chilean Spanish, French, Irish (same as English, who knew?) and Nepali.
Elected to wait out the rain as certain travelling buddy flirted shamelessly with Anita, the waitress (whose sister married a Norwegian trekker) and may or may not have some similar aspirations.

Day 8 - Hiking - Tadepani to Ghorepani

Set off with Bryan and new recruit Eric, still with wet washing for Ghorepani.
Bryan - who had been hiking in sneakers and/or flip slops, much to passing trekkers astonishment, managed for the first time to step directly in a creek with his shoes. He promptly converted to flip flops.
What should have been a very simple 4 hour meander turned interesting when the rain clouds rolled back in, but gave us a nice Man From Snowy River motif as we wandered through the jungles along the top of the ridge.
It was all very scenic in a "I can't really see the mountains I know are a stone's throw away" kind-of-way but that all headed south when said rainclouds opened up.
Donning ponchos and walking in an "I'm about to go arse over tit" kind-of-way and there are two guys that are going to laugh themselves silly when i do, Bryan continued in flip flops mainly for pride as we were actually soaked through anyway.
Coming into Ghorepani, I picked the lodge based on the presence of a "German Bakery" downstairs. Unfortauntely the place was made of balsa wood and the owner refused to light up the wood heater to keep us warm.
Made friends with 4 Israelis who continued to serve me their own coffee brew, which I continued to drink in spite of the fact I knew I was to wake at 4 in the morning for the view at Poon Hill.
Played card games and talked European politics as Bryan slept and Eric wasted away in his room with a queesy stomach (the lesson friends? don't eat tuna in the mountains of a land-locked country - obvious? you say....well...yes).
Drank more coffee.

Day 9 - Hiking - Ghorepani to Poon Hill and Birethanthi

Terrible sleep with weird dreams on account of coffee and fear of missing the sunrise.
Actually "awoken" by the Israelis as they came to knock on my door, but not after the balsa wood house being shaken down by one of them with footsteps resembling those of the BFG, Frankenstein or some other equivalently loud stomping pachyderm.
Climbed to Poon Hill alone as the Israeli guys still weren't ready at 4.30.
Inwardly cursed each big group I passed as they shouted at the top of their lung's at each other during the beautiful starry morning.
Made it to the top first and had about 10 minutes before any groups showed upand had the pleasure of seeing the nearby mountains lit up by the moon and stars.
Clouds rolled in to destroy any hope of seeing Himalayas or the sun rising, determined to depart before the crowds started heading back down.
Ghorepani appears to be the trek done by families and older people not confident enough to get to the top (not actually complaining about that, but it explains the huge about of people present at Poon Hill). From here I think I considered the peaceful and serene mountain trekking to be over.
Some more codeine popping and we left Ghorepani for the most epic, downhilled, shop filled, tourist ridden stair case yet. It must have been as difficult as the pyramids to assemble.
Encountered an Indian and English family with 5 small children - they asked if they were halfway yet - didn't have the hert to say they had 7/8ths of the way to go. I hope they're alive.
Stopped for beer in Birethanthi with the plan to continue to Lumle. That plan nosedived after the first sip.
Were passed by the Israelis as we ate dinner - very close to dark and they still had an hour to reach Naya Pul.

Day 10 - Birethanthi to Pokhara

Beard has now gone curly, could not recognise self in mirror. Transformation to wandering smelly man effectively complete.
Plan to leave "early" pathetically destroyed by breakfast and slow moving body parts.
"Should be virtually flat today but we have a lot of ground to cover"
Left at 8 and it took 2 hours to climb the 3 or 4 HUNDRED metre "virtually flat" ridge before reaching Lumle. Praised decision to stop for beer at Birethanthi.
Another attack of zombie children - elected to try intimidation approach - made one child run away - apparently effective.
Found ourselves back on a road for the first time in 10 days. Touched it like a duck with water.
Immediately surrounded by car exhausts, trucks and a bus that had evidently taken a suicide dive into a rice paddy. Steel cables had been spread taught across a blind corner in an attempt to pull the bus out.
The zombie children appear to be multiplying - intimidation technique no longer working - technique to in turn demand sweeties and chocolates from children met with confusion and anger - resolved to ignore them and smile. Problem resolved, almost to my satisfaction (except that they will ask the next person).
Split up from boys to find my way to friend's wife's house to re-aquire bicycle.
Arrived at designated meeting place mere seconds before someone upended a lake in the sky and Pokhara was lost under rain.
Had bizarre experience of Gemma (fellow AYAD) appearing in front of me, closely followed by another encounter with a Scottish fellow Hasher stepping out from a bar in our path.

Day 11 - Return - Pokhara to Kathmandu

No bus ticket, no problem.
Show up ask for seat, "you have to sit in aisle", no other bus "OK".
Chuck bike on roof, mildly wondering if it will still be there upon arrival in KTM.
Sat on a little stool right up the front, if there wass an accident I was going straight through that window.
Discussed to my horror the fact that the Oz dollar is now worth less than 50 rupees (WHAT IN THE HELL HAPPENED WHILE I WAS AWAY?) with an American sitting near me.
Made it home - discovered house ransacked - panicked only for a moment as I realised that was just a result of me trying to pack my bag frantically the night before departure.
Slept.

To ABC - in a Nutshell

2008-10-10T14:14:00.007+05:30

It's rather difficult to wrap up an amazing 14 day trip in a single post, but I'm going to do my best.

Day 1 - Riding - Kathmandu to Mugling

Plan: Get up super early (ie 5 o'clock), beat the traffic get in as much as possible while it is still cool in the morning.
Actual course of events: at midnight, am still up frantically trying to work out how to make all the stuff fit into my bag. Question whether 7 pairs of underwear is too many, decide to toss the Rubik's cube and second book. Actually depart at 6.30 after a sleep in, a breakfast disaster and managed to lose a waterbottle before making it to Patan (2 km).
Traffic bustling, took a wrong turn in a part of Kathmandu I have never seen, almost die from pollution and contemplate the weight of my pack and the potential that I might have bitten off quite a bit more than I could chew.
By 8 am, made some distance but weather sweltering. Smile, wave and laugh at buses passing me by with boys sitting on the roof and waving.
Make friends with guys on a passing motorbike, only to catch them just after lunch and go for a swim together in the Trishuli River. Start to freak out as they point out they don't actually know how to swim. Realise this is the kind of thing you can only do when travelling alone, as if I were in a group not only would I have not met the boys, but probably not have jumped into a river.
Swearing at the heat and my bum - which was screaming in agony at this point - roll into Mugling, a truck stop town, with nothing but dust, yelling children and a broken fan in my room.

Day 2 - Riding - Mugling to Pokhara.

Down some panadol to quell the aching pain in the muscles and bones that I didn't even know existed in my nether regions.
Swear at why I thought this might have been a good idea.
Come around the side of a mountain, look up to curse Life, The Universe and Everything, to be smacked in the face by the most amazing view of the mountains watching over me as I ride. Remembered again THAT is exactly why I was riding and why I wanted to do it alone.
Wonder why I haven't seen a single bus, taxi or truck all day.
Reached Pokhara University with a sigh of relief only to discover it is another 10 km to go.
Discover it another 10 km to get to my colleague's wife's house to deposit bicycle. Get there to also discover the magical Nepali equation that cultural differences multiplied by married woman, white man and adding sweaty, sunburnt and dirty condition meant it too much to expect a nice cup of tea.
Found out there was a nationwide strike meaning no buses etc, and that I would have to walk the 15 km to my hotel.
Hitched 2 seperate rides with motorbikes, the latter taking me to his home for a cup of tea where I found myself trying to convince him that I would rather stay in a hotel overnight although his hospitality was very much appreciated.

Day 1 - Hiking - Pokhara to Phedi and Pothana

Rain, bueaucratic nonsense, bad directions and a ride on the roof of a bus found me leaving Phedi at about noon.
Met Bruce - insane hippie man from NZ, "locked up by Sir Joh under the Vagrant's Act". Using a golf club as a walking stick. Up what I thought to be one of the most collossal staircases ever created I found myself refilling with water in the tiny one shop town of Damphus.
There a towering American from Delaware called Bryan appeared in front of me and enquired if I was going to ABC (Annapurna Base Camp). After replying in the affirmative we became travelling buddies.
Asserting to share a room to lower costs, the young boy (about 9) at the second lodge we came to in Pothana dropped the price from 200R to 50R before we even started bargaining. Boy ran around for us all night, more than excited to do anything imaginable for us. I have a strong feeling he would have hiked up the mountain and taken the photos for me had I asked him to.
Continually smacked in the gob by images of Machupucharre (Fishtail mountain)

Day 2 - Hiking - Pothana to Jhinu

It's all uphill baby.
Survived leech attack.
Bathed in the hot springs while creepy old man watched on and smiled contentedly. He hand signalled that I should wring out my underwear to dry off "no ladies, no problem". Elected to wear wet undies back to lodge.
So close to mountains that we can't see them. Literally "can't see the mountains for the trees".
Not a fan of squat toilets - particularly when cold and legs tired from exercise..

Day 3 - Hiking - Jhinu to Dovan

As we passed Chomrong (where my theory on the stairs of Phedi where laid to waste [in a rather uncomfortable sticky and smelly way]) the road from Ghorepani joine dus and became that much more busy.
A couple of Dutchmen walked past us in the other direction - no bags - assumed they had a porter (sad looking Nepali that carries immense weights up the hill). 10 minutes - no porter - tried to communicate to Bryan - "I wonder where the dutchmen's porter is" - misinterpretation due to waterfall.- thought I asked "have you heard of Dutchmen's Porter?" - acknowledged that that was a pretty cool name for a band - and thus the travelling "Dutchmen's Porter" was born.
From that moment onwards whenever we crested a massive hill you could hear the cry "Dutchmen's Porter" with much posing like rock stars and we would pound fists as the Americans are so fond of doing.
Stairs up and down from Chomrong started playing agony on my knee.

Day 4 - Doban to Machupucharre Base Camp (spelling alters based on altitude sickness, age of map, amount of beer consumed and which sign you are looking at)

Starting to feel the cold.
Made it by 1pm, at lunch and qould have contemplated the beauty of the mountains, if we could have seen more than 10m through the fog.
Billions of sheep that sound like humans imitating sheep.
Now at an altitude of more than 3800m, but have hiked higher tdue to up and downness of the road on the way (at times fearing we might end up back in the ocean).
Met Cloe, the insane Belgian who had made it from Chomrong to MBC in a day.

Day 5 - MBC to ABC

4am wake up
Bryan without enough clothes - wore everything he owned and two blankets, almost died from cold*
Climb to ABC for sunrise and breakfast.
Many photos with loud obnoxious Australians, Cloe, Bryan and passing Norwegian group who seemed to have no idea they continued to walk in on everyone's photos.
Enjoyed fantastic breakfast with beer and a rising sun.
Moment ruined by being asked to move to make way for Norwegian group (that apparently all need to sit at the same table regardless of the fact that with a group of 20 people, you can't talk to them all anyway)
Resolved to be dark at confrontational to all future group travellers.
Determined to touch some snow - climbed up a major rock fall - much to the digust of aforementioned knee. Almost made it (about 200-300m above ABC)- decided I liked life too much. Got some beautiful fresh and freezing water. Climbed back down - also to disgust of knee.

*Not really

The return trip has many lovely anecdotes, including a deaf man with a marijuana tree, a bald man with gum boots, some codeine pill popping, a running Frenchman, some Israelis (one of whom walked a little like Frankenstein or the BFG), mountains peeling like bananas and the second most beautiful view of the whole trek covered by inpenetrable clouds. But I believe that's enough for now.

Screening

2008-09-25T18:08:00.001+05:30

The second thing that I needed to talk about was the field trip I went on Saturday. As it goes with these things, I was invited late on Thursday afternoon. So, cancelling all my very important engagements, including a relay marathon run, a nice lunch with a colleague and yet another Hash I committed myself immediately.

Travelling to the small village of Sankhu, 45 minutes north of "the Du" in 2 taxis filled with equipment, two drivers and 8 people was a hair raising experience. Remind me to post a photo of a taxi. At one stage I was rather concerned that we weren't going to make it up a particular hill, a concern made all the more worse by the taxi driver checking 3 or 4 times that the handbrake was not actually on.

As no one on this trip really knew who I was or what I was there for, I was treated with a kind sort of mild neglect. In fact my purpose was to simply observe and understand the process of an eye screening camp with a view to reviewing their data collection processes at some stage in the future.

On our arrival, everyone split up and started setting up with equipment in various inexplicable places around the school we were based at. Not entirely sure what to do with myself I watched on as all this was happening, pretending to busy myself by looking at a pretty run-of-the-mill piece of paper with nothing written on it. There was a tap on my shoulder and a suggestion to "please come". Thoroughly uncomfortable, I managed to ask (in Nepali) where it was were were going. This small effort seemed to be enough to prove to the crew that I was an alright sort of chap, and not there to spy on them, for this broke the ice for the rest of the day. If fact, that singular moment was more of an opening for hand-holding, belly-rubbing, and other inappropriate man touching than ever there was - at least in my experience.

We were in fact off to "breakfast" (by which I mean morning tea) usually taken by the staff at Tilganga anywhere between 9 & 10 - with lunch to follow closely at 12). I do love the breakfasts I get when I am with Nepali's. For some reason the management at restaurants open in the mornings speak little English and are generally unhelpful when it comes to pointing at an item and the vain hope that you might get to eat it. Some weird fried beans, a spicy kind of soup and some oil with a touch of flour and water dropped in it and we were back at the school.

Before we even arrived in the gate, my colleagues had disappeared to their various stations and had started seeing patients that had been registered and were waiting for us to return from breakfast. Before I had my wits about me, 5 people had already had their visual acuity measured and they were knocking them off at a rate of about 2 per minute. There seemed to be a lot of shouting and a lot of confusion and a general excitment in the air.

From the Visual Acuity station they were sent accross a field into the Exam room, where all the lights were off and there was no shouting or excitement but plenty of confusion. In fact, it was eerily quiet. Eventually the patients managed to work out (probably through some kind of devining method) that they were meant to walk to the other end of the room and sit down. There a silent man shone a light in their eyes (to check for disease) and either gave them some cream and packed them off to the Refraction station or gave them some drops and told them to sit on the bench. For those patiently waiting on the bench, perhaps 10 minutes later, the strange silent mnan would walk up, shine a light in their eyes and direct them to Counselling. [I should point out here that 'strange silent man' is a very nice bloke who has been very friendly to me all week, and even called me over to see a cataract close up, it was really cool].

At Counselling, by torch light, a young ophthalmic assistant would schedule the patient a pre-op and operation date (within the next week), take their medical record off them, give them a referral slip and briefly (and I mean in 30-40 seconds) explain what happens during a cataract surgery).

From there, they would go to refraction, and have their refraction measured. I'm not entirely sure of the point of this, as usually a cataract makes you partially or totally blind in that eye, so having measurements taken for glasses seems a litte redundant.

Expecting to see 200-250 patients, and only getting to 115, we promptly packed up, hired a local bus and made the return trip inside 20 minutes. We didn't have the hill that almost killed the taxi to thank for this but the insane lunatic maniac bus driver whose muscles were so massive the seams on his singlet were busted. He drove that bus like we were in a 4x4 race to get onto Noah's Ark with the flood waters lapping at our ankles. I believe he is probably part of the facebook group "if you can drive through it, do it".

My role, ultimately in all of this is to determine (through data collection and medical records) why some people don't show up at hospital following these screening camps. And from my minute observations and highly accurate interpretation of the Nepali language, here is my assessment:

- cataract patients tend to be older than 65

- the regions we are visiting often have people living in them with no education

- the whole problem is that no body has any money (our taxi cost 550R), not exactly monopoly money to some people

- many people have been living with blindness for many years

How on earth are you going to handle someone telling them to show up at hospital tomorrow for some other stranger to stick lights, fluids and fingers into your eyes? Why would I go all that way to have someone cut into my eye with a scalpel, in a procedure I don't understand. "I was blind yesterday and got through the day, maybe I'll chance tomorrow too". With all that yelling and confusion, I'm surprised some people knew which way to go to get home.

I'm not saying that the screening camp was not an amazing thing. It truly was. I understand that they need to be quick to get through 250 patients with only 7 staff and a few hours. But I think just a little empathy, a little consideration could go a long way into making sure patients come along when you are telling them they have a disease that is easily curable, provided you allow hem to CUT A HOLE IN THEIR EYE!

In This Country

2008-09-21T13:25:00.001+05:30

There are two important happenings that I want to talk about. Each significant in its own right. So I will keep them seperate.

Firstly, on Friday, I was fortunate enough to catch up online with my South African friend Sheena. She did a 20 Q interview with me regarding my experiences so far, my mental state and explaining just why there are so many men around touching each other. You can read the interview here* (of course, I must stipulate at this point that any swearing contained therein was her creative input, and not mine..;))

It was strangely ironic that, in the evening of Friday I went to the Lazimpat Gallery Cafe to watch one of their weekly movies. The movie was called "In My Country", and was about the South African Aparteid and all the trials that took place. Knowing very little about the entire subject (it pains me to admit), I was very moved by this movie. It goes through some of the stories of victims of the racist regime and how they confronted their attackers. Amnesty would be granted to abusers (often white police) as long as they made a full confession, were confronted by their accusers and prove that they were under orders [anyone feel free to clarify my brief version of history]. The purpose of this amnesty was to allow the country to move on through their terrible past and start over.

The reason this was important to me is not just the movie itself (although I found it very informative and emotive), but what happened afterwards. Raj (the very friendly guy that seems to work at LGC 24/7 and now knows us quite well) asked if I had liked it. He said it was a very good movie and very significant to Nepal. I have found it all to easy to miss the fact that Nepal has been engrossed in a messy civil war for the last 12 years. In fact, it was only months before my arrival that the king was kicked out of office, and since my arrival that we had the "election" of the President, Vice-President and Prime Minister.

Raj said he saw the significance of the reconciliation and said that he thought it could easily work here. There were many human rights crimes committed by both the government/police/army and the Maoists as they battled for control of the country. He told of a story of a family in the village where he grew up "very far from 'ere". This is my understanding:

"A man and a woman had gone out to speak to the Maoists about the seizing of their land. The police arrived at their house and found their 7 year old child there. The child, completely unaware of the politics told them that the parents were speaking with the Maoists. The police shot the child and threw the body into the river. They believed that the parents were Maoists, and in that case that the child would grow up to be Maoist."

Raj believes that if there could be a confrontation and a complete and honest admission of guilt, then Nepal will be able to get on with getting on, and fix this country up some. If only things could be so simple.

It was a horrible reminder to me that this country is struggling with some terribly deep running scars, and that they are desperately recent.

*Not available yet

Indonesian Guest Post - Andrea

2008-09-18T08:45:00.002+05:30

Andrea is sweating it out in Jakarta, Indonesia and is finding the girl on girl touching about as frustrating as I am the man on man.

Well it is almost 2 months since I arrived in Jakarta and it has been the biggest best experience of my life so far. Jakarta is a city with a population of approximately 10 million people with another few million commuting from outside the city to work every day. It has no centre, sprawls for k's and k's with the poorest slums built around the base of amazing sky scrapers. It is never quiet here and the city is in your face all day and night. The traffic jams are horrendous with 5 km trips frequently taking 3 hours. I would walk everywhere if it wasn't for the pollution, the heat as well as the condition of the footpaths, which are covered in food stalls, beggars and motorbikes (at least these things are on the parts of the footpaths that are not gaping unmarked holes with 10 ft drops into untreated sewage.) The people are fantastic and stare at you until you smile then they crack the biggest grins I've ever seen. My work is with the Department of Education on a World Bank program that aims to bring up the standards of teachers in Indonesia so that by 2016 every teacher in Indonesia (there are 2.7 million of them) has a University qualification of at least 4 years in length. I am writing training for staff who will go onto training the teachers. The poverty here is crazy. 21 women died in a stampede in East Java on Monday, they were all trying to get a ramadhan gift from a rich man which was the equivalent of $3.30 each and there was this big rush to get to the front and the women who died were mostly elderly, widowed and really week from the 2 weeks of fasting which was just the most horrific thing. I've heard about similar occurences many times before but never in the country where I am living. The worst thing about tragedies like that is that there is so much money in Jakarta, and Indonesia has an abundance of valuable resources like oil, gas, coal etc however the money and the power is controlled by the tiniest percent of the population and the resources abused by the big companies that already have heaps of money. If Indonesia had a good 30 year plan they could easily be a middle-economy by then but a lot of the people in power are just far too interested in filling their own pockets. The rainy season has just started so I have had to buy candles for my apartment, extra water and prepare for calling in flooded to work which will be a novelty the first time but irritating not long after. The fasting month is upon us which is great for me as the work day is 8-3 but tough for everyone else. No food, water, cigarettes or sex from dawn to dusk which has resulted in some occasionally irritable and often very tired colleagues (sleeping more at their desk than they do in any normal month.) One of my favourite sites was walking through a food court just before the fast broke and seeing all the shop assistants bracing themselves for the onslaught of parched and hungry people who appeared in a matter of seconds. I thought it was strange to hear that a lot of people apparently put on weight during the fasting month as they don't eat all day then eat at least 2 meals before bed and get up at 3.30am to eat again before the fasting begins for the next day. I'm looking forwards to the next 10 months and am sure I will see something every day that will make me think "What the ???"

Characters - Lena

2008-09-16T08:30:00.005+05:30

NOTE: Photos have been added to the Great Bamboo Barang Adventure (scroll to the next post to see them)

This is the first in an instalment of posts on the whacky, interesting and amazingly inspiring characters I have met in this eccentric country.

Lena Ji is a strange character:

she's an anthropologist, so it should come as no shock that she is slightly peculiar
she conducted her senior research paper on the American "RV" culture, hence got her university to pay for her to tour around New Mexico - bravo, is all I have to say
she's from Brooklyn, so has that incredibly entertaining accent (that I don't yet think she has caught me laughing at)
she's been having issues with her work in Nepal, specifically, trying to work out exactly what it is she should be doing on an everyday basis.
she has more than 4 cameras
nothing makes her happier than cheese on bread, except maybe cheese on a biscuit or cheese in an omelette
she is entirely unimpressed that I get power now 24/7 on account of being on the same grid as the Prime Minister (WHOLE other story). She has only 1 night a week in which there is power at dinner time even though she lives within 500m of my house
she is a music nut
she refers to her parentals as "Mama and Papa Neuf" - say it with a Brooklyn accent, it's worth it
she stopped watching TV at a young age and says people think she is weird for having done so. I just say she's ahead of the game
when she makes up her mind to do something, there's no going back. Say hello to Sally (and Lena):

The Great Bamboo Barang Adventure

2008-09-12T08:34:00.005+05:30

Sunday, Lena (my new partner in crime) and I set out on a crazy mission. Lena, for more than a week, had an obsession with creating a work of art. It was a functional work of art. One that would open us to new worlds, new experiences and generally would be pretty damn cool. That mission was to acquire some bamboo ("Rob, wood is like, so un-Asian") and turn it into a ladder to access to unchartered world that was Lena and Katherine's rooftop. And it all had to be done before Katherine came home on Tuesday.

Off we set at about 10:30 in the morning, after meeting at our favourite hangout, the LGC (Lazimpat Gallery Cafe) not quite sure how but all the more determined that we would accomplish our goal. While I was going to be content with acquiring bamboo, finding a local clever enough to turn it into a decent ladder and be done with it, Lena was adament that we would be getting our hands dirty and making the stupid thing ourselves.
"Let me at least get a quote" says I, eager to avoid killing myself on a faulty ladder. So we popped into the only place I could imagine would make something like what we were after, the local furniture shop, where they can make just about anything you like from a piece of cane and half a day.

As usual, the hand-gestures proved to be enough to get everyone confused and completely mis-interpreting one another, I drew a picture (rather a nice one, mind you) of a ladder on a napkin I had acquired from LGC for specifically this purpose. This was enough to get out of the gentleman that he had no (nor could he get) bamboo for the said purpose. "no thick enough, Ring Road". And hence we jumped on the next semi solid looking electric took-took to head for the previously unexplored area on the northern ring road.

Having abandoned our took-took in a traffic jam and wandering lost for an hour asking at every second hardware store where we could buy either a ladder or bamboo, we finally found a very nice man that spent 15 minutes explaining to us that the bamboo store was 20 metres away, just around the corner. Having ascertained that the word for ladder is not "you know...ladder [point at pathetic diagram scrawled on napkin that is now covered in sweat] but "barang", we found the place, with much jumping up and down like a child at Christmas on Lena's part.

Somehow we communicated that we needed 2 sticks of as straight-as-it-comes bamboo but were next confronted with the task of getting the thing 4-5km back to Lazimpat. That this would pose an issue had not occurred to Lena, and I was fairly confident that we wouldn't have even got as far as finding bamboo, so for a while there we were stuck. Until a man appeared with a rickshaw, quite clearly hanging out for this very moment all day and for 200R offered to take us and our bamboo to Lazimpat. Before we knew what had happened, the money had disappeared inside his (rather nice) denim jacket and our bamboo was half loaded on his rickshaw, turning it from a rather odd looking 400 year old bicycle into a rather odd looking 10 metre long 400 year old bicycle. And he was off up the hill.

Chasing after him we tried to push and help, but honestly this man (somewhere between 40 and 50 had calves of steel and there was no keeping up with him. Reaching the top, he gestured for us to hop on, and we reached a roundabout. The aforementioned traffic jam was still in full swing but somehow he managed to turn the 10 metre long rickshaw around the roundabout as a traffic cop parted cars and motorbike for us without batting as eyelid. Pottering along discussing the content of our respective wills, who should get the music collections and how we wanted to be buried, we provided great entertainment and received many smiles laughs and comments from the passing cars, buses and motorbikes. "Look at the two silly bideshi's!"

The story doesn't end there, even if you might wish it to. Katherine and Lena live on the 3rd floor of a block of apartments, so the two of us had to arrange a strange kind of pole vaulting technique to get the stuff up onto the balcony.

A few pot plants, an almost broken window and a couple swear words later, we were up on the balcony sawing and chopping up our bamboo into what would soon be known affectionately as "Sally". At the moment Sally needs a little love from someone who actually knows how to tie knots, but she holds, and the view from the rooftop was worth all of it!

Tongan Guest Post

2008-09-07T14:12:00.002+05:30

So, my dear friend Amy is kicking it in Tonga, with beautiful beaches, swamps, king size beds and crazy hippie lecturers. Her email was so funny I thought she could make for the first guest post on the blog. And so it follows:

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls...

I have to start this eMail with a personal apology. This apology is specifically to you, whoever you are. I'm sorry I haven't written in ages. I know I've been here a long time, and I know you've been stalking me on facebook so you KNOW I've been online. I don't have a good excuse, except that it turns out I have a lot of love but only so much time. That doesn't mean you've not special (only special people made it on to this eMail list... and Frank. Hi Frank.) it just means that you've been failing to recieve my other form of communication, which is telepathic messages, so really the blame rests with you... But sorry anyway.

Since this is my first group eMail and I've been here for almost 2 months you will be thrilled to hear that I will have to spare you from the blow-by-blow and stick with the highlights. Phew (for both you AND me!).

If you're on this list you probably know that I'm in Tonga on an AYAD (Australian Youth Ambassadors for Development) placement. The position that I applied for was with the Ministry of Finance and National Planning Project Management Team, managing the grass roots level aid projects funded by China, Japan, New Zealand, and of course Australia. What I'm actually doing (on a day to day basis) is anybody's guess. This week I'm re-doing the Project Team database (there's that bl**dy IT background coming back to bite me in the... ahhh... Hi Mum), last week I wrote a paper on donor involvement in community development and civil society for the High Level Consultation being led by the Prime Minister next week, and next week... well, we'll see. There hasn't been a lot of PROJECT action, but don't worry things are looking up over the medium term.

Landing in Tonga was quite a shock. I think they pick the temporary accommodation just to demonstrate what you MIGHT one day have to deal with in ANOTHER developing country, but then we found our housing and now I call a king size bed home. This means that if anybody wants to visit there is plenty of space (Hellooooo over there.....!). I won't mention the swamp on one side of the house... or the pig pen on the other, although really they're quite cute.

Ummm. So some random Tonga facts:

We have a puppy. Her name is muddy and she's very naughty. I now know why Mum never let me have one.

People in this country say 'Bye!' instead of 'Hi!' if you're passing them by, which means that when I'm riding my bicycle around (yes I wear a helmet and yes people laugh at me because of it) there is a cacophony of byes from people I've never met. Particularly in school zones, unsurprisingly.

The local institute has free lectures every month and last night I went along (NOT just for the free cookies and juice, how DARE you accuse me) and discovered that the physics professor, who is a middle aged man just to be clear, favours red satin knee length party dresses accessorized with pigtails and VERY LARGE piercings. Fortunately his lectures are as entertaining (I'm actually not being ironic here) as his appearance so it turned out to be quite a good show.

Right. Obviously there's about 55 days missing here, but I think we've both done our duty.

On another personal note, there's a good chance that I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!!! (Again, except you Frank.)

Er, and to sign off (Nat, this one's for you) VOTE WES CARR AUSTRALIAN IDOL 2008!!! ...yeah, I know, sorry.

Amy - TONGA!!!

Linguistic Adventures I

2008-09-05T08:09:00.001+05:30

For me, visits to other countries are all about making mistakes and learning from them. Like ordering a "latte" in Italy and getting a warm cup of milk. Sometimes learning about myself along the way. Nepal has definitely been a learning experience. I would like to share some of the following things I have learnt.

1. Language class - my teacher, Bejoy Ji, did not seem to see the irony in the fact that the past version of the verb to drink or to smoke (same word) is "pie:". Further to that, it is illegal to hurt or eat a cow, making the acquisition of a beef and bacon pie that much more difficult (read impossible [this of course is an assumption because I haven't checked out the black market for beef n bacon pies{i'm not quite that desperate yet}]). This makes the gorgeous meat pie I ate the other week at the Australian Red Dingo restaurant all the more amazing. Follow it up with the apple pie people, you will be content, and probably have to check into the hospital on account of an exploded stomach.

2. Language class - The words gae:, gare: and gaare: apparently have some kind of phonetic difference that is impossible to pick up without come kind of cybernetic ear set so loud you could hear the ants crawling all over my kitchen bench.

3. Crazy neighbour lady - There has been an accumulation of stuff mounting on my carpet. Dust, bits of rubbish, crumbs and the like. Having tried to clean it up with the only tool available, a rather pathetic broom handle, I decided to bite the bullet and ask crazy neighbour lady (who speaks a lot of Nepali very fast and then stands there wondering just why it is I can't understand her) if she by any chance had a vacuum cleaner. I knew it was a long shot, but I looked up all the words in advance and went armed for the inevitable frontal Nepali verbal assault. "Tapaaiko vacuum chha?" (so, as it turned out there wasn't a word for vacuum, so I really only went armed with "you have" and "is/true". "eh?? oh, chhaina" - meaning "is not", was the response I got. As I was prepared to mumble OK and disappear the assault came at me quite unexpectedly from the side. "something something something maThi something something something" which I took to mean that someone upstairs had a vacuum cleaner. Either that or she wanted me to make sure I checked for spiders in the rafters. The upstairs people aren't around during the day so I went back inside. Moments later...a knock on the door. Crazy neighbour lady is there with a broom and a big grin. Waving it around like Christmas, she goes to give it to me. "Actually I already have a broom", and pulled it out to demonstrate. WIth a look of surprise she indicated that I should probably try using that, to which I responded "bad on carpet" and pointed at the carpet. She made a funny little side wobble thing that clearly meant I should brush harder and faster with my broom and promptly walked away. Probably in disgust. Needless to say, I used the broom and no more need be said.

4. Work lessons - Other lessons aren't quite so simple to understand, and I have to make the mistake many times before I learn. When I make it to work early, my office buddy is often not there yet, so I have to find the key to get in. There's a really friendly guy behind the desk at reception where the keys are kept. He always says hello and asks me how I'm going. As far as things go, I think that's not bad. "Rajujiko saa:cho kahaa chha?" - "where is Mr Raju's key?" After a brief look the response is ultimately "saa:cho chhaina (no key), but I think Mr Raju is upstairs". So I get upstairs only to find that Raju is not there, and he usually doesn't show until after 8. I go back downstairs, walk in behind reception, grab the key off the hook and glare and reception guy who somehow manages to smile at me at the end of it all. The blind girl that also works in reception never has a problem finding it.

Go figure.

The Great Hash Bash

2008-09-01T15:39:00.006+05:30

Going into this weekend's Hash I was determined to be a little more prepared. These little weekend jaunts were a little more than that, and probably deserved a higher level of respect paid to them. Meaning, these were not simple walks around town, but insane, mountain-climbing, mosquito-biting, leech-infested, beer-guzzling, sweat-inducing hyphen parties that probably warranted some sunscreen and at least 2 litres of water.

Determined not to be caught out as quite the novice again this week; I came prepared with muesli (or granola) bar, mosquito repellent, salt, sunscreen and some water (which I promptly finished drinking moments before arrival at the starting line...)

I might not have given it quite enough emphasis in my earlier post. The last Hash was leech infested, with one of the holding points being skipped entirely due to the fact that it was in fact, a leech farm. An infestation, I will clarify, I actually mean it was like taking a bath amongst the things. At one point in climbing I looked down to see my entire hand covered in blood*. I never saw the leech, whose presence at the time was assumed, but without hard evidence I am now not prepared to rule out CIA involvement.

On Saturday we started at Peter's house. Interestingly enough, the guy had been conned into joining this week for the first time, because he had a beautiful house with a lovely Tibetan family who made us all momos (mmmm mo mo).
He had a beautiful view over the rice fields to what appeared to be a pretty hill (later I discovered it to be Kopan Monastery again [also discovered that we would be running UP it, yay**])

So off we trotted, getting lost in the first 50 metres, but eventually finding our way into the middle of the rice fields. I have never been amongst rice fields (as far as I can recollect) and found the way quite hard going. When you are trying to run on a little ledge not much wider than your foot, with someone's crops dropping down 1-2 feet on either side of you in rather muddy water, you would think it's hard going too.

The occaisional calls of "How ARE you?" and its associated responses of "I don't really know" and "ON-ON!" signifying the presence of the Hash trail, would ring around the rice fields, particularly funny when you couldn't see any of your colleagues.

There was one brilliant moment where the 30 runners found themselves spread across three seperate little ridges that made me wish I had my camera. We were weaving in and out of rice patties and jumping up and down hills inbetween little creeks. I was equally glad I didn't have my camera during a river crossing and a seperate Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom style moment where one girl's leg when straight through the bamboo bridge.

Bring on next week.

* Actual scale of incident: not quite as bad as the Ice Skating Eye Gash of 1999, worse than the Crazy Pressure Hose incident in Colorado, and not quite as terrifying as the Amazing Assassination Attempt of January 2005.

** Note sarcasm

Toilet Language

2008-08-29T15:25:00.002+05:30

Just a quick update to let you know what has been happening, and what is on that abstract to do list.

IMAGINARY THINGS TO DO LIST

Get some lights for the damn bike - seriously! It's getting dangerous out there! See the next point.
Find someone official enough and demand they do something about that open manhole on the main street in Lazimpat. Currently a green tree branch is sticking out of it, warning all and sundry not to drive into it. Of course, this is quite an acceptable solution, until such time as the branch dies, and then people won't know what to do.
Work out how to convince my didi (literally, 'big sister' but actually the lady upstairs that does my washing) that the money I am waving around in my hand is actually for her, for services rendered over the last month. The broad just won't take it!
Write a paper on the optimal intraocular lens power for North Korean cataract patients based on a minuscule dataset that may or may not be complete and accurate.
work out how to work out what the optimal IOL power for North Korean cataract patients should be.
Work out how to convince colleagues that I don't know actually know how to work it out. There must be some research, formula or method for deciding these things. Not some Australian guy with no experience pulling numbers from tea leaves (while apparently a widely accepted fortune telling technique, I'm not sure the scientific community is likely to accept it) - however i could document it in the Methodology section.
Find a colleague that doesn't nod and smile as I ask the above questions. I want some head shaking, frowning and even some yelling just so i know I'm getting somewhere, even if it's wrong.
Determine how to jump the locked fence after 9pm without waking up the entire compound.
Sound proof my bedroom from the morning sounds of neighbour's sex, dishwashing at the communal well, taxi music, taxi drivers, taxi exhaust and taxi maintenance sounds (apparently I live above some kind of taxi gang hideout).

THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN DONE LIST

Established the phonetic difference between four and six (being 'char' and 'chha'). To the point where I was actually able to request half a dozen bananas. Seriously, what the hell do I want with 4 bananas anyway?
Followed a conversation with a local shop keeper.
"namaste, tapaailaai kasto chha?" - "I greet the gods within you, to you how is it?"
"namaste sir, Thik chha" - "i greet the gods within you sir, OK is"
"chhawataa keraa dinus" - "six bananas give please"
"oho! countrymaa aaun-something something" - i interpreted as "hey! what country have you come from?"
"ma Australiamaa aaue: bhayo" - "I Australia at, came"
"ma Australia something something something something something suhuji" - i interpreted as "I want to open a shop in Australia"
"raamro chha" - "good is"
"paache-teis rupiyaa: dinus" - "25 rupees give please"
"la" - "there ya go"
"pheri aaun:aulaa" - "again come!"
Of course, at one point in there we broke into English to discuss the potential of his business and expected salary in Australia, which I craftily avoided, but I was pretty happy with my efforts.
Sunil came back from India about 2 weeks ago, and came to check in. Technically he wasn't "in" India, or anywhere near it in fact, but was working on an infrastructure project somewhere translating for the Japanese. So, not India then. Apparently Danesh (Denis, I have now worked out his actual name) couldn't work out how to use the key in my lock after I showed him), it is tricky - I'll give him that. Sunil "fixed" the toilet, by buying a new hose and applying duct tape. Always a good solution when times get tough. Aside from some acceptable sprinkling when you flush, the toilet seems to function to a most satisfactory level.
I determined that Danesh is not the son of, but in fact the husband of my didi "Rita". Who knew?
Had a lesson from my neighbours son (Bin) on making dhaal baat. It wasn't a lesson so much as him cooking for me using every food item in the fridge and every pot and pan available.
Worked out that Jingo is called by a different name depending on who speaks to him. Bin dislikes him so much that he just calls him dog (cucuur). Bin's mum calls him something else and his brother Prim (they like to keep it simple for me) calls him something else again. SO I'm gonna stick with Jingo.
Wrote a program in VB with Raju, technically its not part of either of our job descriptions, but it is "capacity building" so I'm not feeling too bad about it. It adds 7 days to a date of your choice. Sure, it hasn't got the most practical of applications, but it worked, which is a big improvement on my stuff from uni.
Felt like I have lost a significant amount of weight. Not so much because I feel thinner, but because my favourite shirts have doubled in size due the Rita's "technique". What used to be a chest hugging arm-strangling polo now reaches to my knees and would probably function better as a nightie or some kind of short towel.

Funny Word

2008-08-28T15:03:00.000+05:30

Skewness is a funny word.

Hashing the Field

2008-08-25T16:52:00.007+05:30

I'm getting behind in my adventures. Two weekends ago, Katherine (my little insane trekking buddy) and I tripped to Nagarjun Forest (where incidentally, I have since found out the ex-king [how can you be an 'ex-king?] is in exile in a cottage [that probably more resembles a palace]).
Is was a 5 k walk to get to the entrance, 10 k's to the 'summit' and back and another 5 k back home - because it seems we were either too emotionally or intellectually disabled by this point to barter with a taxi driver for a realistic fare home. Looking back upon that moment, 5 km really is probably worth $6, still, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger (or at the least sore, which generally makes you feel like you've acheived something).

Just after we had arrived at the entrance to the forest, and potentially naively handed over Katherine's only ID to the Armed Policeman (not that he had a gun, that's just the term for the service) it started to rain. Not to be put off at yet another reminder that this is not the right time of year to be going walking in Nepal we donned out next to useless raincoats and started up the hill on what some people might call a track* (see footnote).

Within 10 minutes we looked like drowned rats, but we by the time we reached the top, the worst of the rain had passed, we had de-leeched, killed about 40 bazillion mosquitoes and had (again) a most exquisite view of Kathmandu (that's 3 weeks running for me folks!). Eww icky leeches...

The Buddhist stupa at the top is apparently a common pilgrimage point for Buddhists around the world. We wouldn't really know except for the signs because apparently they got the memo about not trekking in the monsoon...

Needless to say we hiked back down, which was pretty, slippery and fun although a little less wet (but twice as exhausting) but there is more to tell you of the last week, so I shall continue.

On Thursday at approximately 3.29pm (i knock off at 3.30) I was asked if I would like to go on a field trip to Nuwakot on Friday. "FIELD TRIP!" was my instant excited response, but to be responsible and follow the rules, I had to ask, "where are we going?, how are we getting there, where are we staying?" etc. The response was, "well if you don't want to come..."

Quickly I arranged for approval and before I knew it found myself outside Hotel Shangri-La waiting for the car to pick me up at 6.30 am Friday morning. We drove for 2-3 hours, along the side of a hill allowing buses and the like to pass us on seemingly tiny one-lane roads. Constantly pausing for me to get a good photo, and trying to teach me Nepali and explaining what exactly it was we were going to do in Nuwakot all at the same time, the 5 of us (Menoj [the driver], Mohan [the counterpart], Bhoj Raj [the self-appointed Rob assistant, regardless of whether he wants one or not], and guy who's name can't be remembered and now too much time has passed for Rob to ask]) made our way to the town of Trishuli.

There we spent an entire day teaching Female Community Health Volunteers about how to recognise the signs of childhood blindess so they could go back to their villages, screen children and send them on to the Community Eye Centre in Trishuli. Some of them had travelled more than 5 hours on foot to be there. Of course, I assume this is what happened because the entire day, and all the handouts were in Nepali. "How obvious" you might say, well its not so obvious when a chunk of the women were actually illiterate. It could have been in Swahili for all they knew.

The night we stayed at a "5 star resort" according to Whatzisname "haha I make joke" where the mattresses were like rocks lying on a bed of rock. The food and beer was unbelievable though, and we ate by candlight as the hydroelectric power station above the town didn't seem to be on the clock 24/7. We shared an 8 bed dorm and they tried to make me more comfortable by putting one rock mattress on top of another. The boys (Menoj, Whatzisname and Bhoj Raj) acted like it was a 14 year old slumber party and wouldn't let me sleep. My Mp3 player and rubik's cube were the hit of the party. [I was sitting there twitching as they destroyed 2 hours of work on that damn Rubik's cube, but I did love to see them so excited].

Our return to Kathmandu was an adventure, as large portions of the road we took to get to Trishuli had been washed away overnight. Every man and his spade was out on the road trying to help out insane motorists (like ourselves) to get through. So I can add a spot of road maintenance to the list of achievements in Nepal.

After returning, I met up with Avi, who I had foolishly agreed to go 'hashing' with. Some of you may have heard of the "Hash House Harriers". Well, the Himalayan chapter of the club describe themselves as a drinking club with a walking problem. Before I knew it, I was back at Nagarjun Forest running up a hill on all fours, in the most non-eco-friendly trekking experience of my life, following random shouts of "on-on" which I took to mean that someone had found the trail we should be on. There was a moment where we had to jump a brick wall, when someone said "I think we're meant to pay to be in here, I think the ex-king lives in here" the serious reply was, "yeah, if you see an Armed Police officer carrying a rifle, run faster".

I'm putting hashing on my list of 10 most awesome experiences in my life, I shall see if I can keep up the momentum when I meet them all again next week!

* Of course, you would only call it a track if you were descended from mountain goats and had some kind of miraculous glue shoe that allows you to stay on it.

Load Sharing vs Traffic

2008-08-21T23:16:00.000+05:30

More aptly, the subject of this post should be "how to get lost with the involvement of a dog or two, a bicycle, an aeroplane, no lights and dirty glasses". I had to content myself with combining the title of two previous posts and shall attempt to make it witty (even if it is only me reading this stuff).

Tonight in the space of an hour, I did a lot of stuff. The best way to tell you about it is probably to travel back in time and relive some thought and moments with you.

Kupendol's lights are all out, it must be their load-sharing night...make sure you don't die in the traffic that not only can't see youi, but also doesn't care if they wipe you out! note to self, add an item to that ever-increasing to do list. Get some lights for your bike!
This doesn't really look like Ratna Park. I remember more one-way-ness and less petrol queues. Meh, what do you know gut instinct? I choose to ignore you.
Yep, you weren't meant to cross the river again...I tink you might be about to get quite uncomfortably lost.
You have never been here before what on earth are you doing? You can't be in the bum end of nowhere, you're technically in the middle of Kathmadu! Perhaps, due to the busy-ness we'll call it the empty abdomen of Kathmandu.
Hmmmm,. the lights are still out here, maybe this load-sharing business is just rubbish and really the whole town is out each night.
Clean glasses = no glare from headlights - next time, clean your glasses
This looks familiar, I'm not going to turn back yet.
Invest in a gas mask for future "let's get lost" style adventures.
Look at that oddly shaped plastic bag sticking out of that shop door....HOLY TRUCK! That's a dog's tail! [swerve to other side of the road narrowly avoiding not only the dog's tail, but a motorbike, taxi and 3 small children]....[pat self on back for quick thinking]
If I took that wrong turn, that means I'm west of where I should be, I just need to go east. So, which way is that?
HOLY TRUCK that "puddle" was actually a ogre-sized hole half way to China!
Note to self: avoid man-eating potholes in the future, even if you think you can see the bottom [note for others: if the puddle actually looks solid.....it's not]
Apparently, to a dog, a motorbike halted in traffic is just as appealing as any old fire hydrant.
Maybe I should turn back, no wait! That pothole looks like I've been in it before. I must be on the right track.
Hmmmm traffic jam, I have no time for you, I am taking this road with no cars on it, that just so happens to also be approximately at the river's water level.
No no, I'm sure mud is actually GOOD for your jeans.
Who knew that there was a mountain biking trail in the abdomen of Kathmandu?
NO matter what your situation, in the future, you cannot judge EAST by a plane going in particular direction to land.
Wait! I have a compass! I love you sweet compass! Take me home!
A compass is only really useful to a person that has a pretty good idea of where they were in the first place.
I hate you stupid compass! You are not wortth the 20c I spent on you!
Sweet sweet compass. I take it all back, please don't hate me.

Sunday is Load Sharing Night

2008-08-18T15:09:00.002+05:30

Sunday night is load sharing night. It's fantastic. Its like forced quiet time. Something I might enforce on myself when I return home.

Sunday afternoon/evenings, when I come home, I often forget. Usually though, Jingo (my name for the little puppy that lives next door) is there to meet me. He is usually tied up outside the neighbour's door in the late afternoon. He gets so excited when I come around the corner that sometimes he wets himself. But he is the most beautiful little puppy. I must get a photo (mental note: put that on the to do list to get done at some point in the time before he's no longer a puppy).

Moments after I arrive inside, at say 5pm, and switch on the lights, they go out. "Ahhh that's right, it's load sharing night!" It's quiet. There's no music, no blaring dodgy 40 rupee DVD's playing in the distance and only the occaisional dog barking. No one appears to be out washing clothes, dishes or yelling at the top of their lungs at one another. The creaky old water well is silent. Brodij's wife is comparing weeds in the back garden and there is a general state of calmness about my whole environment.

I light up a candle and open up my journal. Its time to do some writing! It's a fantastic time to reflect and force myself to forget everything else out there for a little while. A time to slow down from the weekend's events and get back into work mode. To get an early night's sleep and prepare for the week ahead.

I think I will instigate load-sharing night when I get home, even if it is only so I can have a cold shower by candlelight.

Kopan Monastery

2008-08-14T16:16:00.004+05:30

I haven't yet told you about last Saturday, my most recent riding adventure. Lindsey (another American, this time from work) asked if I was keen to checkout the Kopan Monastery. She said "we'll ride up", I said, "I'll be there!".

A much shorter ride than the weekend before, but with good portions of it being directly uphill, by the time we reached the monastery we were about ready to drop dead as it was quite possibly the hottest day since my arrival. Along the road we were passed by a monk riding a motorbike at breakneck speeds downhill and at the gate there was another having a chat on a mobile phone. I don't know why these were things I didn't expect Buddhist monks to be getting into, but I was surprised all the same.

There were many sayings, prayers and suggestions up around the walls of the monastery, but this was the funniest one, just near the entrance.

The monks here mainly seem to be influenced by Tibetan Buddhism- as I understand, there are many flavours - although the general concept is the same. The Dalai Lama and his exile were popular topics on all the notice boards, with plenty of advice from the old guy. A few protest posters about the Beijing Games, or perhaps Beijing itself but in general it was a very peaceful and happy place.

Whlie we were there the monks were having some kind of session with very deep singing, unfortuantely there was no one there to tell us exactly what was going on. But I got a photo of an old lady and a young boy watching the ceremony together. Very cute! He's a serious little guy though.

We wandered around the gardens, very tranquil, and observed that you can go on a retreat there for a measly $US200, where you will sit in silence for 2 weeks "without the tiresome bother of everyday chitter chatter". While I value the concept, I think the tourists might be losing out...

We checked out their library, that not just only had Buddhist Dharma but interesting "think about your life" type books and everyday novels. It's definitely the place you want to go for a day away from the city.

Leaving the monastery behind, we headed for a "nearby" Hindu temple. The Gokorna Mahadev temple. When we asked for directions it seemed to be very hit and miss with some people knowing exactly what we were talking about, and others not while still others just pretended that they knew.

Lindsey had a little moment we she couldn't decide whether to be riding or walking. Stuck behind a group of people on a narrow path she was struggling to keeo her balance on the bike. Eventually decided to plant one foot on the ground, the particular part of ground she decided on collapsed beneath her and she found herself tumbling down the side of the mountain. Now, by "down the side of the mountain" I actually mean about 2 metres, but it was both horrifying and hilarious to watch, as she kept trying to push herself back up and slipping further down the side of the hill. After helping her up nd determining the only damage was to her pride, we pushed in front of the slow meanderers in front of us.

The scenery was once again breathtaking, exactly the kind of place where you want to go on a weekend picnic with someone special.

We got to the Mahadev temple only to discover almost the entire place deserted. We weren't even sure we had gone to the right place. Maybe next time it will be a bit more interesting. There was however preparation for a cremation/funeral going on by the river bank, but as it was only preparation I will have to fill you in with more detail when I actually observe one, for now though, pheri beTaau:la!

Things That Go Bump in the Day, and Spray Water Everywhere

2008-08-10T13:39:00.001+05:30

We don't really know what happened. Maybe we never will. I'll tell you the story all the same, whether it develops an ending or not. I hope it will. What would a whodunnit be if the whizz mastermind detective didn't reveal all at the end of the movie in a nicely summarised 20 minute monologue?

I'm no whizz mastermind detective, but I can spin a story. So, unless you have been living under a proverbial rock, you would know that I have been having toilet problems.

Carly asked me if the toilets flush here, and in general, yes they do. Thankfully however for the last 5 days only one of my taps has been working (one in the shower) and that means that the toilet has not been refilling. This is in fact a good thing, because for a while there, it was impossible to sit there without being ankle deep in toilet water. Somewhere my toilet developed a leak, and then in the course of me trying to determine the source of the leak another one appeared. Before I knew it anytime the thing had water in it it was like being back at wet 'n' wild.

I told Sunil, my landlord, about the problem. He said that Denis (I think that's his name, although it doesn't sound very Nepali) would come, check it out and fix it but that Sunil would be away in India for a while. Denis came, acknowledged that the toilet (charpi) was broken and we had a conversation. The gist of which was "toilet is broken", "yes","I will fix", "excellent", I think. Of course, he might have actually said "well, that's borked, good luck with it mate!". It's another thing I think we'll never know, because I was speaking English and him Nepali.

Anyway its been a week and a half since said conversation and Denis may as well have left town, because I haven't seen him, and my toilet is most definitely not fixed. Here's where the mystery sets in. For the last 5 days as I said, things have been relatively dry on account of no water. I came home today to see my bathroom resembling something like Kevin Kostner's Waterworld. The toilet (let's call it 'tank') had come right off the wall. The hose that connected it to the bowl was sticking up in the air and the bathroom was is a general state of mayhem.

Now I can't tell if Denis paid a visit and tried to fix it or if the toilet itself tried to commit suicide by wrenching itself off the wall. The toilet brush had definitely moved, as well as the toilet paper, but I don't know if that was human related or brought about by suicidal toilet antics.

Any solutions to this crime are welcome, and may be addressed to inane_in_name@hotmail.com. Or alternatively, leave a comment detailing your suspicions.

Cultural Tolerance

2008-08-09T16:37:00.002+05:30

Screw cultural tolerance.....I'm wearing shorts.

Bickies!

2008-08-08T13:26:00.002+05:30

I have found these fantastic snack biscuits. They had ‘vegetarian’ or something on the pack. Point is, they are so disgusting, they’ll stop you daydreaming about snacking for an hour or two. Mission accomplished.