Traditional dohori musicians performing at New Orleans
February 01, 2005
Happy Birthday! (from King Gyanendra x)
It would have been hard for our expectations to have been more wrong in the end. After months of closely monitoring the political situation in Nepal in fear of an escalation of the Maoist insurgents’ terror campaign, the last direction we’d expected trouble to come from was the Royal Palace. However, bright and early on the morning of my birthday, King Gyanendra delivered a proclamation that has since become known as the Royal Step. While it posed no immediate danger or concern for tourists in Kathmandu, it certainly caused a great deal of inconvenience. For those attempting to leave Kathmandu by land or air and those stranded in the country’s more remote regions, I’m sure that first day must have been very worrying. The suspension of civil rights (including the cessation of all phone and internet services and the censoring of all print media) came as a surprise to everyone…and the reasons for it did not become clear for some time. Rather than drip-feed the information as it came to me, I’ll set the story down here now. This seems fitting as it was only during that first week when the situation really seemed to affect my life in Kathmandu.
The political developments that led to the King’s move had given most observers a sense of deja-vu. Despite fervent promises during electioneering, successive coalition governments had failed to do anything about the rising tide of violence from the Maoists. This it seems was mainly down to what the locals call ‘grafting’ – that age-old problem of politicians using their position and influence to suit their own aims (and bank balances) instead of demonstrating a responsibility to their electorate. Therefore, the dissolution of parliament was no great surprise to anybody, having happened twice in recent years already. This time though it seemed the King was sick to the back teeth of the corruption amongst the political elite and, instead of installing a new government (as prone to ‘graft’ as the previous one), he this time took measures to put an end to the continual problem. The reason for the communications blackout and media interference soon came to light: many high-ranking members of the government had been arrested and interrogated in order to finally bring an end to the corruption. It seemed that, as well as wanting to get a firmer grip of the Maoists themselves, the King wanted to get rid of the idiots who should have been doing this in the first place. This is now as much of the situation as I understand. There are several things, from an internal perspective, that I do not understand. Such as the censorship of the newspapers (and recent interrogation of an editor over the publication of an article), banning of political demonstrations, arrest of student leaders, continued interruptions to landline phone services outside the valley and total cessation of mobile phone services. With regards to the papers, I don’t see how muzzling the free press is going help the situation. The papers should be free to express doubt and air both sides of the debate if the situation is to be resolved openly. Similarly, banning political demonstrations and censuring student leaders smacks of a totalitarian regime, will make resolution of the situation much more difficult and once again prevents transparency – which, surely, is to be desired. All these previous points make a mockery of the King’s claim to be acting in good faith for his people. I for one genuinely believe that he has acted in good faith – the situation with the Maoists was becoming critical and the process of democracy in the intended general elections would have been seriously compromised if the old regime had remained intact. However, these particular moves by the King speak of petulance and a lack of confidence in the faith placed in him by his people. More than any country I’ve visited, the Royal Family in Nepal is revered by its people. Could the King not have trusted his people to stand by him? Regarding the ongoing disruption of phone services, these are things that affect people’s daily lives and the economic well-being of a country struggling to develop. Whatever sound reasons there may have been in that first week to disrupt communications between corrupt officials or Maoists rebels, they surely can’t still exist now. So these are the internal discrepancies as I see them. Quite apart from these, life really does seem to go on as normal for most Nepalis living in the Valley…outside will have to wait until my intended trip to Pokhara in April. The majority of Nepali people I’ve been able to speak to seem to think that the King has acted in good faith and that, certainly, something needed to be done to resolve a worsening situation.
What I find much harder to understand is the situation from an external perspective. I can fully understand the withdrawal of military aid…if there were to be any ill intent behind the King’s move (a move towards a suppressive, dictatorial regime for instance), what better way to safeguard against this than by preventing the development of military strength. I do not side with the hawks who believe that bolstering the resources of the Royal Nepalese Army is essential to overcoming the Maoist threat. Whatever current insurgencies are presenting themselves should be dealt with by an army that has been given its head and is no longer being managed by the ineffectual grafters. Of course, the ultimate resolution of the situation will never be with weapons and arrests – for every fanatic killed or locked up, there will always be more to take their place. Negotiations were never going to be productive as long as those engaging in them were more likely to profit from their failure…and the Maoists were never likely to take seriously the idea of parleying with corruption. Perhaps, with an honest government with whom to negotiate, the decade long insurgency could finally be settled. Of course, this requires the cleansing of the democratic process and the untainted election of honest officials with a clear mandate…and, of course, this is going to take time. So, why punish one of the world’s poorest countries for being undemocratic when it is trying so hard to be democratic? Why take away, or threaten to take away, the much needed economic aid that has, slowly, been helping this country find its feet? Why, when those who have most likely been helping themselves to a large slice of foreign aid are now locked up, is the aid being withdrawn? In my opinion there are two reasons: cultural arrogance and national interests. Why should a (group of) powerful nation(s) dictate to the rest of the world how democracy should be achieved? And, why, once achieved, should they then dictate how it should be run? Is there any difference between giving a cripple a crutch and threatening to take it away (if he doesn’t do what you tell him to) and telling the same cripple to give you his food or you’ll hit him? I don’t think so…If the ‘West’ wants to help Nepal, they shouldn’t be treating her like a pariah and withdrawing much-needed economic aid. As recent developments have shown, this could end up driving Nepal towards the rather dubious embrace of the ‘People’s’ Republic of China. I also happen to think that, as Nepal is somewhat lacking in natural resources (unlike, say, Iraq or Saudi Arabia), she is being used as a political pawn to curry favour with neighbouring countries. The people of Nepal do not deserve to be treated like this.
Just my two pennorth…
So back to 1st February…my birthday. I had risen early to use the internet and wandered to Helena’s coffee shop for a full treat of a birthday breakfast. Strangely, nobody seemed to have a connection for the internet so, much puzzled, I retired to the warmth of Helena’s to slurp several cups of Nepali tea and eat a large cooked breakfast (definitely think there’s a market for importing ‘proper’ sausages to backpacker destinations around Asia). Not long before Ram was due to meet us, I returned to the hotel to find Edd up and about. Time for Ram to arrive came and went and we soon became worried. He’d left us the previous night to get back to his son who was ill with a very high fever. It occurred to us that he might have had to take his son, Roshan, to hospital. Of course, there wasn’t much we could do, so we left a message for him at reception and sauntered off to Helena’s. On the way, there was still a dearth of internet action and we soon discovered that there were no phone services either. It became apparent that there was some kind of political situation but we really weren’t sure what it was. As we sat in Helena’s we were eventually informed by BBC News 24 (if it ain’t on the Beeb, it ain’t happened yet! Remember the tsunami?) of the Royal Proclamation…and everything started to make sense. We were, of course, worried…although, mainly because we were unable to call home and let everyone know we were okay. There were, of course, doubts about the future security situation but for the time being we knew we were safe in Kathmandu. Rarely before had the Maoists actually been able to threaten the city, although in recent months blockades had been able to affect supplies coming from the country. The question on tourists’ lips was whether the King’s actions might provoke an outburst from the rebels. Of course, at this stage, nobody was particularly well-informed and I guess the vacuum of information was our main cause for concern.
The day passed extremely uneventfully. Ram eventually showed up full of apologies explaining that, yes, he had had to take his son to hospital…and without phones had been unable to contact us. We soon sent him packing…as two grown adults in an unexplored city, we were perfectly capable of looking after ourselves…and we knew Roshan would need his dad. The previous day, I’d discovered a well-stocked second hand bookshop, so Edd and I went down to fill our boots. It was here that we discovered our shared love of fantasy fiction and we spent a happy hour just looking at the hundreds of books and making recommendations to each other.
The rest of the day was spent in a happy, lazy haze of fictional reality as we took it easy in preparation for a big night out.
The evening commenced with Mojitos at Maya’s Mexican Bar. After a distinctly un-minty first attempt, I showed our errant bartender how to really make Mojitos and the second was certainly better. One thing I couldn’t fault him on was the size of the measures…and we were certainly well on the way to Happyville by the time we got to Yin Yang’s Thai restaurant. Everest beer was the excellent accompaniment to a fine meal. I was very amused by Edd’s apparent sensitivity to the fresh chillies in his Red Curry and could only chortle as I witnessed someone (for once!) sweating more than me. After this fine repast, we adjourned to Tom & Jerry’s bar for a fine diet of pool (on the most appalling tables I’ve ever played on…anywhere! Yet, all the same, highly amusing and guaranteed to provide an evening’s entertainment), guitar-rock (more AC-DC!) and Everest. We met a really pleasant couple (husband and wife) called Steve and Catherine who were both train drivers in Birmingham and, a little later, a very friendly and endearing young Tibetan lady, called Dawa. Things got very messy later on and I ended up going to the Casino with Dawa and her older sister, while Edd sensibly staggered back to the hotel. For my first birthday spent away from home, it was a raging success…and a damn sight better than my first foreign Christmas!
The rest of the week passed in a haze of political uncertainty, Nepali tea and reading. The next day with a reasonably brutal hangover, Edd and I were taken to the Swayambunath Temple on the western side of the valley by Ram. We met up with Claus, a Danish guy, who’d recently started teaching at the school I was to be at. I was surprised at the thickness of his accent and his difficulty in understanding me and Edd. Surely, teaching English, he should have had a good command of the language but, as Ram explained, Claus was only teaching the primary school classes at the school. (Personally, I didn’t think this made a jot of difference and wondered how productive it was for both Claus and the kids to be thus involved.)
We only took a peremptory look around Swayambunath – one of the difficulties of having a guide, as far as I’m concerned. I would have preferred to wonder round in my own time and discover things at my own pace but both Edd and I were aware that Roshan was still unwell and we didn’t want to keep Ram any longer than necessary. The temple is a sprawling mass of buildings dedicated to Buddhism, situated on an imposing hill with stunning views of the valley and its encircling hills. Peeking out from behind these lesser peaks, we caught occasional glimpses of snow-capped Himalayas looming in the background. With the sun out, it was a warm day and the monkeys, famous for inhabiting the grounds, were chattering and jumping about in full expectation of spring. The respectful demeanour of the visitors seemed to me to be in stark contrast to the blatant commercialism of the business being conducted within the temple grounds – several shops were selling carvings, masks, jewellery and tourist trinkets, while there was a busy café selling (allegedly!) happy shakes under the counter. As I was to come to realise, though, this practical approach to religion is part and parcel of life in these parts and the locals would think no more of turning a profit on sacred ground than they would of spitting on it!
Back in Thamel that evening, we went for dinner at one of the more up-market restaurants, New Orleans. Claus, Ram, Edd and I were joined by Kathleen (another MondoChallenge volunteer who’d been working in the south) and Lucy (my soon to be predecessor at Samata School). Still nursing the remains of my hangover, I decided to treat myself to a big piece of junkfood and ordered the double burger, thinking that Nepali portions would be no match for me and my mouth. A jaw-aching hour later, I was humbled and professing that my buff (buffalo…no beef here…cows are sacred, don’t you know?!) burger was one of the most satisfying meals I’d enjoyed since leaving home.
For the rest of the week, most evenings were spent consuming Everest and playing pool and it was with some relief on the part of my waistline that, at the end of the week, I moved digs to be nearer to school, where I was due to start on the Sunday (Yes…Sunday!)
The political developments that led to the King’s move had given most observers a sense of deja-vu. Despite fervent promises during electioneering, successive coalition governments had failed to do anything about the rising tide of violence from the Maoists. This it seems was mainly down to what the locals call ‘grafting’ – that age-old problem of politicians using their position and influence to suit their own aims (and bank balances) instead of demonstrating a responsibility to their electorate. Therefore, the dissolution of parliament was no great surprise to anybody, having happened twice in recent years already. This time though it seemed the King was sick to the back teeth of the corruption amongst the political elite and, instead of installing a new government (as prone to ‘graft’ as the previous one), he this time took measures to put an end to the continual problem. The reason for the communications blackout and media interference soon came to light: many high-ranking members of the government had been arrested and interrogated in order to finally bring an end to the corruption. It seemed that, as well as wanting to get a firmer grip of the Maoists themselves, the King wanted to get rid of the idiots who should have been doing this in the first place. This is now as much of the situation as I understand. There are several things, from an internal perspective, that I do not understand. Such as the censorship of the newspapers (and recent interrogation of an editor over the publication of an article), banning of political demonstrations, arrest of student leaders, continued interruptions to landline phone services outside the valley and total cessation of mobile phone services. With regards to the papers, I don’t see how muzzling the free press is going help the situation. The papers should be free to express doubt and air both sides of the debate if the situation is to be resolved openly. Similarly, banning political demonstrations and censuring student leaders smacks of a totalitarian regime, will make resolution of the situation much more difficult and once again prevents transparency – which, surely, is to be desired. All these previous points make a mockery of the King’s claim to be acting in good faith for his people. I for one genuinely believe that he has acted in good faith – the situation with the Maoists was becoming critical and the process of democracy in the intended general elections would have been seriously compromised if the old regime had remained intact. However, these particular moves by the King speak of petulance and a lack of confidence in the faith placed in him by his people. More than any country I’ve visited, the Royal Family in Nepal is revered by its people. Could the King not have trusted his people to stand by him? Regarding the ongoing disruption of phone services, these are things that affect people’s daily lives and the economic well-being of a country struggling to develop. Whatever sound reasons there may have been in that first week to disrupt communications between corrupt officials or Maoists rebels, they surely can’t still exist now. So these are the internal discrepancies as I see them. Quite apart from these, life really does seem to go on as normal for most Nepalis living in the Valley…outside will have to wait until my intended trip to Pokhara in April. The majority of Nepali people I’ve been able to speak to seem to think that the King has acted in good faith and that, certainly, something needed to be done to resolve a worsening situation.
What I find much harder to understand is the situation from an external perspective. I can fully understand the withdrawal of military aid…if there were to be any ill intent behind the King’s move (a move towards a suppressive, dictatorial regime for instance), what better way to safeguard against this than by preventing the development of military strength. I do not side with the hawks who believe that bolstering the resources of the Royal Nepalese Army is essential to overcoming the Maoist threat. Whatever current insurgencies are presenting themselves should be dealt with by an army that has been given its head and is no longer being managed by the ineffectual grafters. Of course, the ultimate resolution of the situation will never be with weapons and arrests – for every fanatic killed or locked up, there will always be more to take their place. Negotiations were never going to be productive as long as those engaging in them were more likely to profit from their failure…and the Maoists were never likely to take seriously the idea of parleying with corruption. Perhaps, with an honest government with whom to negotiate, the decade long insurgency could finally be settled. Of course, this requires the cleansing of the democratic process and the untainted election of honest officials with a clear mandate…and, of course, this is going to take time. So, why punish one of the world’s poorest countries for being undemocratic when it is trying so hard to be democratic? Why take away, or threaten to take away, the much needed economic aid that has, slowly, been helping this country find its feet? Why, when those who have most likely been helping themselves to a large slice of foreign aid are now locked up, is the aid being withdrawn? In my opinion there are two reasons: cultural arrogance and national interests. Why should a (group of) powerful nation(s) dictate to the rest of the world how democracy should be achieved? And, why, once achieved, should they then dictate how it should be run? Is there any difference between giving a cripple a crutch and threatening to take it away (if he doesn’t do what you tell him to) and telling the same cripple to give you his food or you’ll hit him? I don’t think so…If the ‘West’ wants to help Nepal, they shouldn’t be treating her like a pariah and withdrawing much-needed economic aid. As recent developments have shown, this could end up driving Nepal towards the rather dubious embrace of the ‘People’s’ Republic of China. I also happen to think that, as Nepal is somewhat lacking in natural resources (unlike, say, Iraq or Saudi Arabia), she is being used as a political pawn to curry favour with neighbouring countries. The people of Nepal do not deserve to be treated like this.
Just my two pennorth…
So back to 1st February…my birthday. I had risen early to use the internet and wandered to Helena’s coffee shop for a full treat of a birthday breakfast. Strangely, nobody seemed to have a connection for the internet so, much puzzled, I retired to the warmth of Helena’s to slurp several cups of Nepali tea and eat a large cooked breakfast (definitely think there’s a market for importing ‘proper’ sausages to backpacker destinations around Asia). Not long before Ram was due to meet us, I returned to the hotel to find Edd up and about. Time for Ram to arrive came and went and we soon became worried. He’d left us the previous night to get back to his son who was ill with a very high fever. It occurred to us that he might have had to take his son, Roshan, to hospital. Of course, there wasn’t much we could do, so we left a message for him at reception and sauntered off to Helena’s. On the way, there was still a dearth of internet action and we soon discovered that there were no phone services either. It became apparent that there was some kind of political situation but we really weren’t sure what it was. As we sat in Helena’s we were eventually informed by BBC News 24 (if it ain’t on the Beeb, it ain’t happened yet! Remember the tsunami?) of the Royal Proclamation…and everything started to make sense. We were, of course, worried…although, mainly because we were unable to call home and let everyone know we were okay. There were, of course, doubts about the future security situation but for the time being we knew we were safe in Kathmandu. Rarely before had the Maoists actually been able to threaten the city, although in recent months blockades had been able to affect supplies coming from the country. The question on tourists’ lips was whether the King’s actions might provoke an outburst from the rebels. Of course, at this stage, nobody was particularly well-informed and I guess the vacuum of information was our main cause for concern.
The day passed extremely uneventfully. Ram eventually showed up full of apologies explaining that, yes, he had had to take his son to hospital…and without phones had been unable to contact us. We soon sent him packing…as two grown adults in an unexplored city, we were perfectly capable of looking after ourselves…and we knew Roshan would need his dad. The previous day, I’d discovered a well-stocked second hand bookshop, so Edd and I went down to fill our boots. It was here that we discovered our shared love of fantasy fiction and we spent a happy hour just looking at the hundreds of books and making recommendations to each other.
The rest of the day was spent in a happy, lazy haze of fictional reality as we took it easy in preparation for a big night out.
The evening commenced with Mojitos at Maya’s Mexican Bar. After a distinctly un-minty first attempt, I showed our errant bartender how to really make Mojitos and the second was certainly better. One thing I couldn’t fault him on was the size of the measures…and we were certainly well on the way to Happyville by the time we got to Yin Yang’s Thai restaurant. Everest beer was the excellent accompaniment to a fine meal. I was very amused by Edd’s apparent sensitivity to the fresh chillies in his Red Curry and could only chortle as I witnessed someone (for once!) sweating more than me. After this fine repast, we adjourned to Tom & Jerry’s bar for a fine diet of pool (on the most appalling tables I’ve ever played on…anywhere! Yet, all the same, highly amusing and guaranteed to provide an evening’s entertainment), guitar-rock (more AC-DC!) and Everest. We met a really pleasant couple (husband and wife) called Steve and Catherine who were both train drivers in Birmingham and, a little later, a very friendly and endearing young Tibetan lady, called Dawa. Things got very messy later on and I ended up going to the Casino with Dawa and her older sister, while Edd sensibly staggered back to the hotel. For my first birthday spent away from home, it was a raging success…and a damn sight better than my first foreign Christmas!
The rest of the week passed in a haze of political uncertainty, Nepali tea and reading. The next day with a reasonably brutal hangover, Edd and I were taken to the Swayambunath Temple on the western side of the valley by Ram. We met up with Claus, a Danish guy, who’d recently started teaching at the school I was to be at. I was surprised at the thickness of his accent and his difficulty in understanding me and Edd. Surely, teaching English, he should have had a good command of the language but, as Ram explained, Claus was only teaching the primary school classes at the school. (Personally, I didn’t think this made a jot of difference and wondered how productive it was for both Claus and the kids to be thus involved.)
We only took a peremptory look around Swayambunath – one of the difficulties of having a guide, as far as I’m concerned. I would have preferred to wonder round in my own time and discover things at my own pace but both Edd and I were aware that Roshan was still unwell and we didn’t want to keep Ram any longer than necessary. The temple is a sprawling mass of buildings dedicated to Buddhism, situated on an imposing hill with stunning views of the valley and its encircling hills. Peeking out from behind these lesser peaks, we caught occasional glimpses of snow-capped Himalayas looming in the background. With the sun out, it was a warm day and the monkeys, famous for inhabiting the grounds, were chattering and jumping about in full expectation of spring. The respectful demeanour of the visitors seemed to me to be in stark contrast to the blatant commercialism of the business being conducted within the temple grounds – several shops were selling carvings, masks, jewellery and tourist trinkets, while there was a busy café selling (allegedly!) happy shakes under the counter. As I was to come to realise, though, this practical approach to religion is part and parcel of life in these parts and the locals would think no more of turning a profit on sacred ground than they would of spitting on it!
Back in Thamel that evening, we went for dinner at one of the more up-market restaurants, New Orleans. Claus, Ram, Edd and I were joined by Kathleen (another MondoChallenge volunteer who’d been working in the south) and Lucy (my soon to be predecessor at Samata School). Still nursing the remains of my hangover, I decided to treat myself to a big piece of junkfood and ordered the double burger, thinking that Nepali portions would be no match for me and my mouth. A jaw-aching hour later, I was humbled and professing that my buff (buffalo…no beef here…cows are sacred, don’t you know?!) burger was one of the most satisfying meals I’d enjoyed since leaving home.
For the rest of the week, most evenings were spent consuming Everest and playing pool and it was with some relief on the part of my waistline that, at the end of the week, I moved digs to be nearer to school, where I was due to start on the Sunday (Yes…Sunday!)
January 31, 2005
Namaste! Welcome to Nepal
My first impressions of Nepal were thwarted somewhat by the weather. Having carefully arranged to sit on the right-hand side of the plane on my flight from Bangkok, I fully expected to see majestic views of the Himalayas as we came in to land at Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International Airport. Instead I was met by a milky, opaqueness and flat dull light, reminding me that I’d left behind the warm air currents of the Gulf of Thailand. I didn’t even get much chance to see the city as we only emerged from the clouds within a few hundred metres of the valley floor. I had purposefully packed my warm fleece in my day bag to ward off the cold air but still felt myself shivering as I strode across the windswept tarmac for the shelter and comparative warmth of the terminal building. Security and customs checks were desultory (no hint of any impending infringement of civil liberties!) but the queue for entry visas was long…and moved extremely slowly. This was due more to the queue-jumping of countless tour-agents than the intricacies of the process itself so, by the time I got to baggage claim, I was feeling reasonably short-tempered.
My teaching placement in Nepal had been facilitated by a charitable British organisation called MondoChallenge and it was their in-country manager, Ram Krishna, who came to meet me at the airport. Immediately, his gentle demeanour and ready smile set my frayed nerves at ease and he bundled me into one of the airport’s dilapidated ‘official’ taxis to take me to my hotel in Thamel.
The next thing I noticed about Kathmandu (after the cold and the bureaucratic nepotism!) was just how dirty and impoverished some of its streets seemed to be. Everywhere we drove past, gutters seemed to be filled with litter and covered with a thick layer of grime; the road was more pothole than tarmac; and small fires of stray rubbish seemed to burn on every street corner. Needless to say, the air quality was pretty dire. Alongside this, though, I couldn’t help but notice how very much alive these streets appeared to be. Baskets and blankets of produce seemed to carpet every spare foot of pavement. Housewives threaded their way through, looking for the day’s best bargains, while an endless procession of children seemed to follow, haphazardly in their wake, unheeded and unhurried. I soon realised that many of the mothers were also carrying their younger offspring in shawls wrapped over their shoulders. Most striking of all was the sheer variety of ethnicity and fashions that ebbed and flowed along the streets. Every hue of skin and every shape of feature seemed to be present in a wild jamboree of differing and complementary dress styles. Salwar kamez and sari floated airily along behind jeans and tracksuit tops. Dainty, impractical (and surely bloody freezing!!), open-toed, strappy sandals picked their way between Nike and Adidas. The only common feature shared by all the faces I saw were a pair of dark, almost black, eyes and a frame of jet black hair. Before we turned up Tridevi Marg and headed into Thamel I realised that I had truly arrived on the Subcontinent.
Carefully installed by Ram at The Hotel Great Wall under the watchful eye of Mahendra and his boys, I soon made myself at home in my top-floor room. I was delighted to have my own bathroom with the promise of hot-water showers ‘most evenings’ – dependent, of course, on the vagaries of the weather and the state of repair of the solar water heater. I took a little wander around the streets of Thamel (which, at first glance, seemed to be endearingly quaint after the brazenness of the Khao San Road) but ensured I was back in time for Ram’s return with the second MondoChallenge volunteer – a guy called Edd, hailing from Dorset. Edd struck me as a very polite and enthusiastic chap and I was surprised to learn after some discussion that he was only eighteen, having given off an air of some maturity. It seemed that his involvement in the Scouts and an unusual amount of travelling had stood him in good stead because he was certainly no wet-behind-the-ears pup, straight from school. Ram took us for dinner at a Nepali restaurant called Zaika in the heart of Thamel’s (very hygienic) food and bar district and we were treated to our first rendering of the local favourite of Dal Bhaat (literally lentils and rice). Much satisfied and reasonably knackered, we emerged an hour or two later with AC-DC reverberating in our ears and swearing by Nepali food and Everest beer (yes, I bet you all wondered how long it would take me to find the local brew…). Ram had given us several pointers regarding food safety, local customs and places to avoid as well as a smattering of the local lingo. He would be meeting us at our hotel in the morning to give us more Nepali lessons and to show us some of the various historic sites around the city. After mounting the five flights of stairs to our neighbouring rooms, Edd and I bid each other good night, expecting the next day to be interesting but, ultimately, uneventful.
My teaching placement in Nepal had been facilitated by a charitable British organisation called MondoChallenge and it was their in-country manager, Ram Krishna, who came to meet me at the airport. Immediately, his gentle demeanour and ready smile set my frayed nerves at ease and he bundled me into one of the airport’s dilapidated ‘official’ taxis to take me to my hotel in Thamel.
The next thing I noticed about Kathmandu (after the cold and the bureaucratic nepotism!) was just how dirty and impoverished some of its streets seemed to be. Everywhere we drove past, gutters seemed to be filled with litter and covered with a thick layer of grime; the road was more pothole than tarmac; and small fires of stray rubbish seemed to burn on every street corner. Needless to say, the air quality was pretty dire. Alongside this, though, I couldn’t help but notice how very much alive these streets appeared to be. Baskets and blankets of produce seemed to carpet every spare foot of pavement. Housewives threaded their way through, looking for the day’s best bargains, while an endless procession of children seemed to follow, haphazardly in their wake, unheeded and unhurried. I soon realised that many of the mothers were also carrying their younger offspring in shawls wrapped over their shoulders. Most striking of all was the sheer variety of ethnicity and fashions that ebbed and flowed along the streets. Every hue of skin and every shape of feature seemed to be present in a wild jamboree of differing and complementary dress styles. Salwar kamez and sari floated airily along behind jeans and tracksuit tops. Dainty, impractical (and surely bloody freezing!!), open-toed, strappy sandals picked their way between Nike and Adidas. The only common feature shared by all the faces I saw were a pair of dark, almost black, eyes and a frame of jet black hair. Before we turned up Tridevi Marg and headed into Thamel I realised that I had truly arrived on the Subcontinent.
Carefully installed by Ram at The Hotel Great Wall under the watchful eye of Mahendra and his boys, I soon made myself at home in my top-floor room. I was delighted to have my own bathroom with the promise of hot-water showers ‘most evenings’ – dependent, of course, on the vagaries of the weather and the state of repair of the solar water heater. I took a little wander around the streets of Thamel (which, at first glance, seemed to be endearingly quaint after the brazenness of the Khao San Road) but ensured I was back in time for Ram’s return with the second MondoChallenge volunteer – a guy called Edd, hailing from Dorset. Edd struck me as a very polite and enthusiastic chap and I was surprised to learn after some discussion that he was only eighteen, having given off an air of some maturity. It seemed that his involvement in the Scouts and an unusual amount of travelling had stood him in good stead because he was certainly no wet-behind-the-ears pup, straight from school. Ram took us for dinner at a Nepali restaurant called Zaika in the heart of Thamel’s (very hygienic) food and bar district and we were treated to our first rendering of the local favourite of Dal Bhaat (literally lentils and rice). Much satisfied and reasonably knackered, we emerged an hour or two later with AC-DC reverberating in our ears and swearing by Nepali food and Everest beer (yes, I bet you all wondered how long it would take me to find the local brew…). Ram had given us several pointers regarding food safety, local customs and places to avoid as well as a smattering of the local lingo. He would be meeting us at our hotel in the morning to give us more Nepali lessons and to show us some of the various historic sites around the city. After mounting the five flights of stairs to our neighbouring rooms, Edd and I bid each other good night, expecting the next day to be interesting but, ultimately, uneventful.
January 30, 2005
Farewell to Indochina
My last 3 days on Don Det were pleasantly idle…nothing much to report other than the welcome addition of Tom, Anya and Lucy to the party (Adam having taken Susie back to Bangkok for her flight home). I was both reluctant and eager to leave come Friday morning. Don Det could have held me willingly in her grasp for many more days and, yet, I was excited about the prospect of teaching and the totally different appeals of Nepal. The journey back to Bangkok was long and knackering. Starting at 10am with the river crossing, dusty pick-up rides to Pakse, from there to the Thai border and then to Ubon Ratchathani. At the train station, I was appalled to discover that there were no sleeper berths of any description on the last train to Bangkok and ended up spending an uncomfortable, noisy journey in 3rd class seats with the locals. The upside of this was chatting with some ‘real’ Thai people, who were all amazed that I was sitting there in ‘cattle class’ with them. I did manage a couple of hours kip but arrived in the capital with a sore seat and bleary-eyed. For once, I was able to avoid meeting anyone I knew and resisted making any new friends until my final night, after 2 punishing days catching up on my inbox and updating the blog. I had plenty of time to reflect on my 3 months in Indochina. Foremost in my thoughts was Laos: such a beautiful country, so far unblemished by mass-tourism and industrial development. It won’t be long, I’m afraid, before a burgeoning relationship with mighty China changes all of this though. Signs of Chinese-supported infrastructure were everywhere and I wonder how long it will be before the compulsion to use cheap rural land for manufacturing overrules the obvious benefits of eco-tourism. As I’ve said before, I wouldn’t want to deny the local people the benefits of technology and improved infrastructure…but is there any chance that they will be able to attain these without making the same mistakes we’ve made in the West? Weighing more heavily on my mind though, I felt that I hadn’t spent long enough in Laos to really to get to know her shy and accommodating people. While the Lao people are more than willing to provide travellers with their wants, they seem to do so without becoming overly involved…and I didn’t get off the beaten track enough to catch a glimpse behind their protective facades.
Looking back on my long loop through the peninsula, I can say with certainty that Cambodia and Laos are two places that I will visit again. I can see myself revisiting the southern islands of Thailand for pure recreation, while Vietnam’s over-zealous commercialism has probably put me off for life. The spirit of the Cambodian people, the tranquillity of Serendipity Beach, the effortless beauty of Laos’ mountains and rivers and the undeniable magic of Don Det have all left indelible marks on my heart…and if I get the time and opportunity, I will definitely be back.
Looking back on my long loop through the peninsula, I can say with certainty that Cambodia and Laos are two places that I will visit again. I can see myself revisiting the southern islands of Thailand for pure recreation, while Vietnam’s over-zealous commercialism has probably put me off for life. The spirit of the Cambodian people, the tranquillity of Serendipity Beach, the effortless beauty of Laos’ mountains and rivers and the undeniable magic of Don Det have all left indelible marks on my heart…and if I get the time and opportunity, I will definitely be back.
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