ROAD BLOG AHEAD

Nyondo has kindly posted some new photos to the Kathmandu gallery section. I’ve actually managed to get pictures of things other than riots: the view from our roof balcony, temples, a couple of young Nepali girls celebrating the end of the revolution, a bathing spring, etc. A few pics of the action as well, my favorite being a shot of some soldiers hiding from protesters in all alley behind a temple. You can view them here:

Thursday 27 April

It is truly weird to walk down the streets and see virtually every business, every shop, every restaurant open! I don’t think I’ve seen this since we arrived in Kathmandu proper just before the general strike. We arrived on a Saturday afternoon and the strike began on Wednesday, but many people had begun already to minimize business or close up their windows by Monday, in anticipation of the troubles to come

I wandered over to the busy area from the quieter, more residential sector where we’ve been staying this past week and felt positively overwhelmed when I entered Thamel Chowk and saw the throngs of people, all the colours and bustle. Even yesterday, the day after the strike was called off, wasn’t like this; it’s taken a day or so for everyone to get back up to speed I guess.

More and more I hear news that gives reason to be optimistic. The voices of the people in the street genuinely HAVE been heard and the politicos are taking heed. Old party members who are suspected of colluding with the Royalists have been let go of their posts, everything is being done quite out in the open and their are clear statements that the SPA will do more than pay lip service to the people’s demands when the Parliament convenes tomorrow. One of the single biggest of these is constituent elections; the other is a game plan to completely revise the contitution so that this past year’s dictatorship cannot happen again through constitutional loopholes. Even the Maoist rebels have declared a truce and are speaking optimistically hearing the agreements. They were actually pretty smart not to just give their immediate and full agreement to the SPA on Tuesday but to continue to apply pressure. That pressure kept the momentum going and made it clear that half measures were not going to be enough.

It’s the Maoists that had everyone worried once the king gave up his resistance. They are a tremendous force to be reckoned with, not always reasonable or moderate, but a definite contra power in Nepal. They hold the political reins in much of the rural part of this country. Their tactics can be brutal, coercive, violent in the extreme, though that appears to be due to a fraction of the most reactionary sector rather than he general attitude. If not for their constant pressure and presence this past decade, this revolution would likely not have happened. Or perhaps it would have - ten years more down the road when the country was in ruins from poverty and struggle.

In the aftermath of the king’s recent concession, they held to their line, demanding constituent elections and constitutional reform, not just vague promises. Those were completely reasonable demands that echo the wishes of the Nepali masses from every strata of society. I may disapprove of some of the Maoists tactics (and believe that some of their philosophy is unworkable in practice rather than theory) but I do see and applaud so much of what they have accomplished thereby. It’s a paradox that will take a lot of time and analysis to sort out.

One of my initial questions/concerns on Tuesday was “if the king steps aside and the SPA manages a functional new government, what will the million or so young men and women who form the Maoist troops going to DO?” A lot of these kids have no other reason for being, no other context for their lives. The struggle has been going on for over ten years. Being a part of the rebel army has formed the social structure and even the family structure for so many of them for the better part of their lives. They are not just going to go back home and take up illiterate subsistance farming!” Particularly the girls, is my thought. Joining the Maoist struggle and developing fighting and logistical skills has been one of the most viable alternatives for young women who don’t want to become “baby factories” while tending the family’s rice paddies. It’s a brutal life. The infant and maternal mortality rate in rural nepal is the highest in the world right now. The life expectancy in general is awful for people outside the cities. So they enlist or are conscripted. They learn skills, they learn to drive, to use machinery, computers, armaments. They are equals and useful for something other than mothering. Nothing wrong with mothering - except when it’s the only choice available. So the army (both sides) and the police have been one good option for girls and women.

Sure, some of them will want to go back home now, marry, have kids, see their parents, etc. But not all, probably less than half are eager to go back - that’s both sexes. And half a million heavily armed and well disciplined young people on the loose in the countryside is NOT a good thing to have! What about those kids? And what about the incomes generated by the Maoists? They had all sorts of ways they were getting money, some sensible, some pretty shady and even cruel. Still, in a place as poor as Nepal, that income really counted, that money trickled down to the soldiers - and their families. Now what? Human nature insisted to me that something needed to be done about this scenario. Yet I wasn’t hearing anything about it.

Until last night. And the proposed solution is so brilliant, so sensible, so… Nepali… that it made me exclaim aloud. That solution is to take those trained, disciplined and experienced rebel soldiers and integrate them into the regular Nepali army! No stigma attached (since of course, their side won which means history will look on them kindly.) Full credit for their experience and rank, same educational opportunities, gender equality (such as it is anyway) and, of course, a regular paycheck. Those who want to go back home and take up life in their village will be able to, but there needs be no loss of job, status, income or advancement opportunities.

I hope they make this work. It’s utterly brilliant and I can’t imagine such a scheme working in most places, but it’s perfect for Nepal where people’s humanness and heart seem to supercede pretty much any divisive situations. Also, Nepal is famous for providing extremely competent armed forces to things like the United Nations peacekeepers. Since WWII they’ve had a reputation as among the best and fiercest soldiers on the planet, quite fearless. The Nepalis tend to do everything with great gusto and fullness of intent, so I expect they really are as good at this as at so many other things.

I have so many impressions from these past three weeks to set down over time. It’s been quite an experience being in the thick of a genuine p and successful - revolution, a true civil uprising of the masses culminating in the overthrow of the existing regime. I am incredibly glad we came when we did, thrilled to have been some small part of this and to have seen this glimpse into the passion and strength of the Nepalese people. It’s interesting now to be pretty much the only Americans left in the area - haven’t heard an American accent in many days. I’m sure there are a few, but the US embassy pulled out earlier in the week and told the remaining US citizens to get out asap as well. We ignored that, of course, and I’m very glad we did.

So now we have a few more weeks to observe what happens next, to see how this revolution plays out in the days after the ostensible denouement. All in all, I’m happy to be living in interesting times.

Kathmandu, Nepal
25 April 2006

The victory party in the streets went on until the wee hours as people celebrated King Gyanendra’s concession. And the vast majority of the population (of Kathmandu at least) IS taking it as a concession. With the reconvening of parliament on the heels of so much public pressure, most people feel pretty sure that the situation won’t revert to what it was before the demonstrations. Or even before the coup in 2005 when the corruption of the existing high muckety mucks gave the king a really good excuse to seize control of government.

“We’re watching you!” is what the people are saying to those bureaucrats now, the ones who are holed up trying hastily to make a game plan by Friday when the first seating of the lower houses of Parliament is scheduled to take place. “Don’t cut deals with the king or each other!” The human sea of Nepal has discovered their power, one person, one voice at a time and, even while they’re celebrating, they are also making sure that the politicians KNOW that the people know. Twice this morning, during the meetings of the seven party alliance’s head honchos, the massed people in the streets below *demanded* through sheer numbers and volume, that the politicians come out of session and give them a public update on what was being discussed, planned, decided. Nothing behind closed doors, no deals without the approval of the people. This may well be an historical first! I pray that they can keep it up.

There are still demonstrations in the street, but they are no longer being fired on, stopped, teargassed or otherwise hassled by armed policy or the army. The demonstrations are jubilant displays of happiness and relief that the strikes, the killing, the hardships are, for the moment, over. They are also a reminded that they could start all over again if the old boys network gets too cocky or forgets who is really in charge. Groups walk through the streets under waving banners shouting exactly what I wrote above: “we’re watching you.” “Don’t sell out to the king.” and other slogans to let the assembled politicians know that a close eye is kept on their discussions. Still, the atmosphere in Kathmandu is excited, happy, optimistic.

Impromptu parades go by on the street. Groups of young people on motorbikes, some wrapped in flags bearing four blue stars, some waving banners in the air, some raising fists in victory and shouting. A truckload passed awhile ago, looking like a float on New Years day with everyone dressed up, banging drums, cheering, flags flapping in the bright sun. Shops are open and, in general, everyone is smiling. Relief of course but also genuine happiness. Even the cops who are still stationed around town seem relieved. Lena spotted a group this morning gathered around a Nepali laguage newspaper detailing the king’s concession. They were reading it aloud, smiling, nodding, looking happy. Smiling at the people around them. It’s been awhile.

Lots of speculation on what might have changed the picture. India’s statement yesterday that it hadn’t actually been as supportive of the King as he’d claimed and that they were giving up their “twin pillar” policy and saying that whatever government the PEOPLE of Nepal wanted would be supported - even if it excluded the monarchy - was probably a major factor. I suspect that the U.S. Embassy’s pullout of all non-essential personnel, it’s urging of all US citizens to leave the country and the formal explanation of the pullout which implied that the government was behind the violence, may have played a role in the king’s last minute wake up call.

Maybe it was realizing that the world was watching and that there were many many Nepalis who were actually willing to put themselves in the front lines, risking death and pain in order to bring down the regime. Young men and young women said time and again that if their deaths meant freedom and democracy, they would die for their country. And there were two million people headed for the ring road today. Two MILLION,many of whom were willing to shed their blood without raising arms themselves.

At last count, there are nearly a million Nepalis in the armed services, the police and military. They’ve been flying them into Kathmandu for a couple of days. The picture for Tuesday was of an armed force meeting and unarmed force and trying to stem the tide that had determined to breach the palace and bring it down once and for all. In the end, with enough determination, they might well have succeeded, but it would have been a genuine bloodbath. Yes, and with the entire world looking on. It may be that it took that image, that vision of millions struggling in streets that ran with blood and tear, that finally caught the king’s attention. Whatever, something woke him up. Just in time. Now, we watch. We are watching you.

Monday 24 April

There’s a hush today throughout Kathmandu. Not so much a pause as it is a gathering in, a pulling together, getting ready for tomorrow. The parties - and the people - are calling on everyone in the Kathmandu Valley to turn up on the ring road for the biggest demonstration yet, a show of solidarity that cannot be ignored. Expected turnout is anywhere from half a million to over two million. People are walking in from outlying districts to be ready.

No word yet from the Palace, other than to continue to clamp down with curfews which are only pissing people off more and being ignored. In fact, the closed shops due to the strike seem to be the single biggest sign that something is amiss here - people are paying attention to that. They no longer much heed the government edicts. Mostly, I think, from what they are saying to me, because they KNOW that the monarchy will fall, that Gyanendra will have to give up. The question among the populace is no longer IF, it’s WHEN. Following that, the question is: how much? How much blood will need to be shed? How much will need to be endured before those holding the reins of ostensible power finally realize that they are perpetuating a sham?

Everyone is making preparations for tomorrow. Even as the kids play cricket in the streets and ladies in bright saris run about hitting badminton birdies, someone in ach family is getting ready. Even those tourists who have not yet evacuated are getting ready. Some are getting ready to leave. Our young Israeli friend, Shachal, is getting on a plane this morning, in quite a hurry to be out of here. Others are digging in.

The rooms next door are occupied by three young Brits who have just returned from helping organize demonstrations in Pokara. They’re surprised by the violence here. Apparently the army and police were much less hostile where they’ve been. Although their friend, Karen, did get arrested and jailed for passing out leaflets urging the army to join the democratic resistence! They are planning to go out at first light to walk to the ring road and join the throngs there. Brave kids with some real common sense, they’re brainstorming for safety issues, packing food and water, considering which shoes to wear. I’m impressed - most of the injies have been purely naïve as they go into the protests.

I doubt there is a sector of Kathmandu society that is not edgy today. The US embassy has evacuated most of its staff and is urging its citizens to leave as soon as possible. It could be that they know something, it could be that they’re just nervous and it could be… My guess… That it’s a kind of ploy, a lever to make a statement to the king. The official statements from the ambassador make it clear that the levels of violence coming from the government are unacceptable to the US.

Everyone is waiting, biding there time, regrouping and saving their energy for tomorrow. Small groups of young men and women move down the street defiantly, ignoring the curfew, ignoring the army. These are the ones who say that they will die for the cause of democracy, for the good of the Nepales people. They have become determined that nothing less than a true representative democracy in which their voices and their votes count, will do now. They’re standing behind this, committed to seeing it through, to putting the monarchy behind them. They appear to be willing to use any means necessary. Tomorrow will tell. People are ready to go for broke. Though nobody is actually saying it out loud, everyone knows: tomorrow we storm the palace!

Sometime after 11:30 pm Dancing in the Streets!

Apparently even the king got the message that Tuesday was to be the next showdown between revolutionaries and royalists. One can only say, better late than never with cautious optimism.

At 11:30 pm Kathmandu time, King Gyanendra went on television to make a new speech. Literally the eleventh hour LOL! Perhaps he knew it was a matter of saving, not just his dignity, but probably a good portion of his own skin because he reinstated Parliament just like that. Others will do far better analysis of his speech than I will, but suffice it to say that he has come a good way down the road in the past 72 hours.

Will it be enough? Will it stem the flood of anti-monarchy sentiment hat’s been released from its gates? I doubt it. I think that the events of this past year - and especially these past weeks - have fundamentally changed the Nepali character. No longer worshipful of authority, they are seeing how much power there is in raising one’s voice. We’ll see if this is overall a good thing I expect.

In any event, it’s apparently being greeted with joy and enthusiasm. Sitting here in the balcony, the previously silent night is full of the sound of whistles and cheers and excitement. People are pouring out into the streets in their nightclothes, with their children. They are waking to see what the commotion is and, once awake, adding their voices to the cheering throngs. Good news, good news the cheers say. We won, we won! Not perhaps the entire war, but certainly this round. The king has backed down, has actually given something of value. He has also, in a round about way, apologized for the bloodshed of the past weeks - or at least expressed both awareness and regret. One does, however, note the incredibly pinched and sour look on the man’s face as he says these things. Although there is great joy and celebration in the streets of Kathmandu tonight, I doubt that there is much happiness and certainly no joy in the royal palace.

Tables have turned. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Sunday, 23 April 2006
Bhagawan Bahal, Kathmandu, Nepal

I’ve been an avid reader all my life. My tastes are pretty ecclectic, but, in fiction at least, run towards both Fantasy/SF and historical fiction. Between these genres, there have been probably hundreds of depictions of life in a city under seige or in the throes of revolution. Now, here I am, describing such scenarios from life and I can’t help but chuckle as I compare it to the different things I’ve read.

In this instance, the seige is a kind of stand-off that lets nothing in or out of the city of Kathmandu. If this were New York or even Des Moines, it might look quite different. Of course it would be extremely difficult for such a thing to happen in New York or Des Moines by sheer virtue of inclusion in a larger area. Kathmandu - and the valley it sits in amidst the Himalayas - is one of the more isolated places on the planet, very difficult to get into or out of in the best of times. It doesn’t take much to cut off access to the handful of major arteries and create a standstill in transportation of goods and people.

There is a break in the ring of mountains through which the main road runs and through which the planes can fly with minimal risk. It’s this singular pass that makes the fertile, beautiful Kathmandu Valley what it is - a kind of fairytale kingdom, a Shangri-la isolated from the rest of the world for much of the year. There’s a higher pass to the Northeast that gives access to China, but it’s much more difficult terrain. People do go up to Tatopani, the last Nepali village before China, but they do it for business or maybe curiousity. From what I hear, the Chinese side of the border is even less developed than the Nepali side - there’s just not much there there.

So the combination of the government-imposed curfews which make going about anywhere very very difficult and the general strikes which have essential businesses and services shut down creates a city at standstill. Then there are army and police checkpoints everywhere, with platoons stationed all along the ring road that surrounds Kathmandu and it’s southerly suburb, Patan. You can’t get in and out without a pass and almost no one gets passes - not merchants, not the press, not even essential medical personnel. Only the royal couriers and those bringing supplies for the palace actually are allowed to cross. THAT is what I’d call a seige. What’s so bizarre is that it’s a seige of the government upon it’s own populace!

And, as with a military seige, attempts are made by the opposing side to break through. The demonstrations and protests, hundreds of thousands strong, have the potential force of an invading army. Only this army is armed solely with banners, slogans and, occasionally, leafy branches that here symbolize victory. Oh, there are occasional bands of teenagers who throw rocks nd bricks. These kids actually don’t seem to care much WHICH side they’re on - they’re looking for trouble and, if they don’t find it, they’ll make it. But such gangs of testosterone-driven hoodlums have existed everywhere, always. They are a tiny minority.

Sadly, some of those same sorts have found their way into the armed police force and have been given guns, lathis (long clubs) and tear gas as well as protective armour. Not ALL the police and army want this conflict. I’ve seen with my own eyes some of them who clearly do not have any desire to hurt anyone, who wish it would all calm down before they receive orders to charge. When the peaceful demonstrators meet the non-hostile police force, generally things go well. But there are enough hotheads on both sides that things sometimes get out of hand and then young people are shot and killed, women are beaten, old people are knocked to the ground. Even the tourists have been roughed up in the zeal of some of the more out-of-control cops to beat everything in reach to a bloody pulp. Those are the scary ones, the drunk soldiers, the guys with mad eyes and automatic weapons. These are the ones who shot and killed protestors execution style, at point blank range. These are the ones who beat to death an eight-year-old caught in the chaos and a fourteen year old boy. It’s the crazy cops who have bashed in heads, shot out eyes and killed women standing on their verandas watching the protests go by. And the king has done nothing but praise the loyalty and steadiness of his armed forces, no regret for the violence or the unnecessary deaths. Thus does a revolution begin, when an essentially compassionate and sane people are pushed past tolerance by the arrogance and uncaring of the ruling class!

Well, that was a diatribe I guess! But perhaps I’ve given some necessary background on why it is a seige not just a “strike”. Understanding the outrage and determination of the Nepalese people is key to understanding why this is all happening - and why people are willing to accept this hardship in order to bring about change. Instead of giving in and returning to business as usual, the population of Nepal is rallying together to withstand the difficulties imposed by both the curfews and the general strike. I, for one, am very impressed by what I see.

So what AM I seeing? There’s really so much, both on a small scale and a much grander one, to be seen in the streets and alleys of Kathmandu that it’s hard to know where to start to describe it all. Why don’t I begin with the garbage…

No one who has not survived a summertime garbage strike in New York City will be able to imagine the reek of over two weeks of trash piled up in the hot sun. And even those who have endured the New York strikes won’t have experienced so much unbagged, unrestrained refuse heaped into the intersections, clogging up the gutters and the alleys.

This is just the worst of the trash. Unlike western cities whose trash collection and recycling systems turn pretty much any sort of rejected materials into landfill or lawn furniture, Nepal’s system is multi layered and rather organic, something you’ll see throughout much of Asia. First of all, there are cows and monkeys that root through trash for their sustenance. Both are sacred in their own way, the cows more than the monkeys. Cows manage to digest most of the cellulose based rubbish. Old newspapers, leaves, clippings, the tops and parings of old vegetables. In the market food stalls, disposeable dishes are still woven of leaves. Once the food is consumed, the leaf plates and bowls are thrown into the gutters for the cows to eat. There are not quite enough cows though, not anymore. The monkeys are even more omnivorous and will eat food scraps, fruit parings, most leftover bits that the cows ignore. Most neighborhoods have a spot where plates and dishes are scraped. These spots are well away from those kinds of places you don’t want monkeys to get in to! They are mostly night scavengers, even though they share humans’ diurnal cycles. Nighttime is safer.

Then next level includes dogs and cats and crows. The crows overlap the monkey’ niche but will also consume carrion and rotting meat. Coming in from above in full daylight, they are prolific and effective scavengers as well as strong indicators of what’s going on around the city. I pay a lot of attention to the crows and learn a lot that way.

It’s actually a pretty efficient system and worked even better before the advent of plastic and styrofoam. But now there is a lot of trash that nothing can or will eat and it is interspersed with human waste, badly rotted organic material and just plain junk. In better times it is collected manually a few times a week and hauled away - where I have no idea and neither does anyone else I’ve talked to.

Oh, I forgot about the street kids. They go through the garbage too, not for edibles for for anything that might have the slightest bit of resale value. Ragpickers they are called because one of the most desireable things to scavenge is old rags that can be sold for paper. These are the abandoned kids, the lowest of the low who live in utter filth in the narrow back alleys and are about as socialized as the stray dogs that also abound in the same environments.

So, although it sounds like the garbage is well recycled or utilized, there’s an amazing amount of it piling up in intersections and alleys. Wrappers, dead shoes, shit, bones that even the dogs are done with, water bottles, juice boxes and just plain old rot. Occasionally someone makes an attempt to burn some of it. Unfortunately, these things don’t burn well so they just add to the stink and the smoulder. Since some of the demonstrations are burning effigies of disliked politicos, the police often disperse a crowd around a pile of burning garbage, and, thinking it began life as an effigy of the king, proceed to beat the heap violently in an effort to put it out. It’s a surreal sight to watch a group of uniformed men armed with semi-automatic rifles fiercely pounding a smoking bundle of cheese rinds, radish tops and biscuit wrappers to bits, thinking that they are preserving the spiritual integrity of their commander in chief!

So we have garbage. Not everywhere, but when you encounter it, it’s quite startling and odiferous in the extreme. The worst is in the alleys which really are just stony footpaths between buildings, barely wide enough in places for people to walk single-file. When the trash piles up there, you have no choices other than to climb over it or turn back and go another way. Sometimes there IS no other good way. So you climb, trying to ignore the squishing noise under your feet.

The worst was in the pouring rain. For some reason I can’t fathom, picking my way through one of these narrow alleys in the rain, I discovered that the garbage always seemed to have the choicest spots, the high, level places with good footing, leaving us to slog through puddles and turn our ankles on half bricks slimed with mud and worse. Much much worse as the alleys become sewers with only a bit of precipitation. Kathmandu has some spots with fairly modern drainage facilities, but not many. THere are ditches in places where the sewage runs and reeks in the midday heat, occasionally but not predictably covered over by paving stones. And there are places where the tiny hovels and broken down shacks have no plumbing at all and the alleys ARE the disposal facilities. Once it rains and all the effluvia washes out of cracks and crevasses and into the center of the path, the going becomes trecherous. Generally here the practice is to wear rubber sandals and hose off your feet when you arrive home.

This ought to be the dry season, the time of predictably fair weather and sunshine, but it isn’t. None of the past three rainy seasons have come and now, in the spring, we’re having torrential rains and thunderstorms that make rivers run in the streets. People are muttering about displeased fertility gods and divine intervention in the affairs of state. Who or whatever is responsible for this unlikely precipitation, it means that the garbage and the sewage are occuring together, presenting a genuine sanitation problem, especially in the poorer neighborhoods.

I’m sure this is making Kathmandu sound dreadful and that’s not at all my intentions. It’s a lovely city, really, full of colour and sound and bursting with life. There is a wonderful aesthetic here that shows itself, not only in the finest examples of architecture, but in the smallest things as well. Even the meanest shack, the plainest tin roof has some little touch - a row of potted herbs or a printed curtain over the door or a tiny shrine affixed to the wall - to give it beauty, to honor the side of human nature that adorns itself and its surroundings to the best of its ability. This tendency is stronger in Nepal than anywhere else I’ve ever been.

There is a graciousness as well, in the people. Even the most modern and hurried of shop girls and waiters would never dream of slamming something down in front of you or handing your change one-handed. You are supposed to present it with both hands, a goodwill gesture and, even with arms full, there are ways to symbolize this for politeness so that courtesy is observed. Likewise, thanks is given with a small bow and often with both hands pressed together at heart level. It underscores the warmth of the appreciation for gifts or favours or kind words. That same hands-together posture is used for the ritual greeting of Namaste, used very much as Aloha is used in Hawaii, as hello, goodbye, good to see you, I acknowledge your presence, all of those things that mean that one human respects and/or likes another. In these ways, every interaction is graced with a degree of beauty as well.

My theory is that, in doing these things, showing these courtesies, life is made a kinder, more thoughtful process. Indeed you may be wandering through a very medieval alley of tumbled stones with shit running in the gutters so that you have to carefully pick your way along and lift your skirts to avoid fouling them in the muck. The reek is awful (though you do get somewhat used to it after awhile) and the trash is not only unsightly but somewhat rat chewed and likely to make you trip or slip. But, coming around a turn you encounter another person. They could be pretty much any age, from an elderly man with a stick to a young woman in a salwar kameez to a small kid followed by a scruffy dog. You don’t know each other, you’re going to have to squeeze by and possibly get pretty slimed, still you stop, smile and meet the other’s eyes and, if your hands permit, make a little bow and say “Namaste” - wishing the best to the other. And meaning it. The small kid may stare at you openmouthed, the woman may blush a little (or not) but they will be unfailingly warm and courteous and expect the same of you.

Now a lot of “tourists” never set foot into the actual alleyways that twist and turn and form a backside maze to the main thoroughfares. It’s easy to get lost in them. Some dead end. Some take weird jogs and turns, having simply had a building put at some time where no building was before and so a way was found to go around. Even the bigger streets of Kathmandu are haphazardly marked so that, even with a map, half the time you’ve no clue where you are. The alleys aren’t on any map and never have had names. They are simply the short cuts, the back ways, the bolt holes and living spaces of the people who form the support structures for all the grand hotels and the businesses and the markets. They are another strata of the city and very much alive, but, no, they have no name, no map, no rhyme or reason to their meandering. If you have a poor sense of direction you can get hopelessly turned around in them. Fortunately, my sense of direction is pretty good.

Lena says that it is along these ways and in the small public squares and marketplaces they open to, that the old Kathmandu is still to be found. When she lived here 30 odd years ago, the place was very much a warren of alleyways and tight spaces. She lived then in a place called “Pig Alley” near the infamous Freak Street. They’ve opened some spots up, built modern buildings and broadened the avenues as much as possible to permit motor traffic, but the older parts won’t permit anything wider than a bicycle and haven’t changed much over the years. I might hazard to guess that they haven’t changed all that much in centuries, at least the buildings that haven’t fallen down.

There are some amazing old buildings within a couple of blocks of this place we moved to. I’ll try to take pictures and post when I’m able. The oldest temple in Kathmandu is just a minute’s walk up the road, a tiny place whose guardian stone lions are so worn from years of hands that they are now no more than vaguely organic lumps to either side of the entrance. A little farther down is another temple, this one to honor Parvati, patroness of artists. I cannot stand up in any of these places, the ceilings were built in a time when no one anticipated a visitor over six feet tall. The Parvati temple houses a tea shop and a million happy sparrows that fly in and out through the metal grillwork windows. I’ve never seen another westerner in there and we get stared at by the other patrons. Still, Lena and I find it a wonderful place to stop and sip a glass of hot Nepali chai while sitting on very crude, low wooden benches that are bowed and literally worn convex by probably millions of human posteriors sitting on them over the ages. The woman who makes chai over a fire near the entrance appears also to care for the shrine. She looks quite as old and sooty as the building. A glass of sweet, spiced, milky tea here is five rupees - about seven cents US. In a place set up for Western tourists, the same chai runs as much as 50 rupees a glass and is served with far less courtesy in lesser (though cleaner) ambiance.

Close to ourlittle garrett room is a shrine to Ganesh, the elephant headed god of prosperity. There is something very alive and cheerful about this one and I often stop and say hello to the small figure within. These are only a few of the many, many shrines in this district that are still very much in use and maintained. The Kali temple may be our favorite, it has such a powerful aura, but there are others in the running, including some small stupas and a massive naga pool with pumps for the spring water and places for ceremony and offerings.

I still have quite a bit to say about being in this city of amazements during a siege. It’s Sunday night now and it’s been rather a quiet day, and not just because I’m sick and have stayed in for most of it. All the squares where there were protests yesterday were sealed off today with armed troops and razor wire. People are nervous, waiting. Supplies really are running out. There are no vegetables in the city today, not even the limp and wrinkled ones that I saw yesterday morning, only a few piles of rotting green stuff that no one will buy. The price of a kilo of chicken is less at this point that a kilo of mustard greens! And you can actually get the chicken if you’re willing to pay for it. We tried to get vegetables today to share with our landlord and his family, but they couldn’t be had for any price. There is a rumour that tomorrow they will let some produce wagons into the city, but so far it is only just that, a rumour. We shall see.

Last night’s dinner was soup that Lena managed to scrounge from a local Sherpa that mostly sells chang (rice beer) She told the proprietor that her sister was ill and she wanted to bring back some soup. So he made her some with what he had still in stock. Lots of noodles and a weak broth heavily reinforced with a ton of chili pepper. A few shreds of tough buff meat, probably less than an ounce all told. An even scanter sprinkling of shredded carrot and a few leaves of cilantro stood for vegetables. And it really was the best available! This in a place where spinach is the national dish and you have three kinds of vegetables for dinner! He made a lot of soup so we could share and apologized for having to charge her 30 rupees when it used to be 25, but in these times… She sat down and had a big glass of chang for 15 rupees while she waited. Most of the people in there were drinking it too, partly because, at that price, it is cheaper than dinner and more filling. The chang they serve is as thick as a thin rice gruel. Fills a person up, keeps ‘em warm and has some nutrition while you get pleasantly buzzed. In these days, it’s a meal.

This morning what we found for breakfast was rice and eggs. And not good rice, apologized that proprietor. THe city is all out of good quality, long grain rice and has had to resort to stores of short grain, broken and less flavorful stuff kept mostly for making beer. This is a bigger deal to the Nepalis than it was to us - we were happy to find any of it at all, seasoned with the tiniest smear of curry and eaten with our fingers from a common plate along with the eggs. Eggs are still available as many people keep chickens even in the city and this is a good season for laying. It’s the primary protein source right now. I’m almost as sick of eggs as I am of noodles.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m in no great danger of dying of starvation any time soon. I’ve got plenty of reserves, enough probably for a small town. So living with a temporary food shortage isn’t going to be bad for me. Particularly since we are among the wealthy here, those who do have enough money in our pockets to be able to afford what food IS available. Sure I blanched at paying almost four bucks US for a package of oat cakes yesterday during the hour that the little import market was open. That was outrageous! But I could do it and it doesn’t mean I won’t eat again this week. When Lena went out this morning, before today’s curfew came down, she managed to find a bakery and bring home a loaf of brown bread, still hot. We still have a bit of cheese, some peanut butter and some jam to go with it, though the butter is getting rather rancid with no refrigeration. We’re doing okay. Actually, we’re tending, when we find a tea shop that’s open or a chang shop that serves food, to sit down with the people in there who are usually nursing the cheapest thing available and buy enough of whatever it is to share with our neighbors - momos or noodles or whatever. There are so many who haven’t worked in a couple of weeks and it’s really hard on them, much more than on the two of us who can comfortably afford to spend an entire dollar for lunch if we want to. It really puts things in proportion, you know?

Fortunately there are also still some frozen stores of water buffalo milk. The prices are up and it usually runs out by midday, but there’s milk for coffee (a priority, even over food.) The quality of it and the origin of it may be questionable however. It’s hard on mothers and little kids.

The family that runs the guesthouse where we’re staying has a seven month old baby. It’s clear that this baby isn’t thriving well and they are worried. He’s really tiny for his age, not very active and he is hung about with all sorts of traditional amulets and protections. We admire and make a fuss over him and that pleases his parents a lot. They are really sweet young people, somewhere in their twenties, trying hard to make a go of it with this slightly run down but charming old place. They are out of many things, behind on many things and working their butts off in these hard times for very little return. We’ve taken to paying in advance for our room rather than the usual custom of paying at the end of the week here because it’s clear that their cash flow is slim to non-existent. THere are hardly any tourists left in THamel and the guesthouse is more than half empty. This, in the peak of the tourist season!

So, the other day, when the really strick curfew was imposed beginning first thing in the morning and there were armed troops and police simply crawling in the streets, stopping everything that moved, Lena went down to give them the rent and found them fretting. The baby, as I said, isn’t thriving. He weighed under two kilos at birth and is still tiny. Don’t know for sure if mom isn’t producing enough milk or what, but they are having to supplement with cows milk and a little rice gruel. Only cow’s milk is not easy to get here. There’s a good bit of water buffalo milk, but it’s not suitable for human babies, too rich for them and tends to make them colicky. So Madan, the dad, had been walking a few kilometers north to his cousin’s place every day or so to get milk from her cow. Only, with the curfew, he couldn’t get there. They weren’t letting any Nepalis through the cordon that was between this road and his cousin’s house. However, Madan was going to try and see if he could somehow slip through, because, hey, he’s a father and his baby needed the milk. Problem was, there really were shoot to kill orders out and lots of people were getting hurt. So it was a big risk.

Well, Lena figured that there was a good chance that she could get through because she’s obviously a westerner and, so far at least, they hadn’t actually been shooting westerners. So, getting directions from Madan, she set off for the cousin’s place. That was probably the bravest part - going alone to an unknown location - considering how directionally challenged she can be LOL! She got to the police checkpoint and saw that they were turning pretty much everyone away who was trying to pass, including the westerners. None of the explanations of why people had to go through to the other direction were acceptable (probably because that road goes in the direction of the royal palace.)

When she got up there, the armed police stopped her and demanded to know where she was going. In a moment of inspiration, she gave them a big smile and a long, detailed explanation of her errand - in fluent French. As she suspected, not a one of the cops or soldiers either understood or spoke French. So she pointed and smiled and gestured down the road the way she wanted to go, making sure to use the word “hotel”. And, eventually, unable to make sense of it all, they shrugged and let her pass. She went on her way, actually found the cousin’s house and the cow and the milk. The soldiers who saw her come back seemed somewhat perplexed. Probably they thought she had been going to her hotel. Only now, here she was, waving a pail of cows milk and pointing back up the road and saying “hotel,” again. But she had a big smile, grey hair and blue eyes and seemed quite harmless. So they let her back in and she delivered the milk to the baby who didn’t show half the appreciation for it that his parents did. Lena has made friends for life. And she knows where to find a cow now.

So Lena returned having been teargassed a bit and totally drenched in the amazing downpour that ended the demonstrations. The rain helped with the teargas LOL. She got some great pictures, but we still have to figure out how to get them off the camera so I can edit and post them. With no laptop working, that’s the hard part - my digital camera uses a different media card than my IPAQ so I still have to go through a regular computer to translate. Grrrr.

I’m sick tonight which is annoying. Sinus infection I think. Actually, we’ve both been feeling it for a few days, Lena and I. By this morning I was ready to rip my head off and leave it somewhere. All the signs and symptoms of an actual bacterial infection rather than a head cold or allergies. The good thing is that here in Nepal, antibiotics are an over the counter thing. You just have to know what you need or want. As we went out for some breakfast while things ere still open pre curfew, we passed what is, for Kathmandu, a pharmacy, which is a cubicle with a folding door like all the others with a little man in it and walls with floor to ceiling medicines, everything from vaseline to quinine pills and more. So we stopped and grabbed some amoxicillin because this wasn’t clearing up on its own. Under four dollars for a ten day supply. Says something about the US drug industry.

So, by this afternoon I felt pretty crappy. I wrote the earlier blog and then, when it started raining, went inside to read or knit. And I fell into a deep, feverish sleep, that kind where you’re not awake, too deep to move, but having weird dreams that intersect with reality. And I hurt. Lord did I hurt! Every joint and muscle screamed and my head just throbbed. When Lena got back, I was lying there, running a high fever and soaked with sweat. Not much help to someone who has just gotten rained on after getting teargassed and chased halfway home through rioting Kathmandu! But my wife is a trooper and rose to the occasion. Eventually my fever broke. I’m still feeling less than prime, but nowhere near as nasty as I did at three p.m. And Lena is doing fine, though a bit wheezy from the gas. She’s gone off to shower, trying to get the last of it off of her skin and hair so we’re not sleeping wtih it tonight. I’m wishing I had a few more brain cells as there’s lots of stuff I want to post here, both ideas and stories of things I’ve seen and heard these past days, but I’m just sick enough not to think very well.

Apparently curfew did lift at eight pm as planned. There’s actually traffic on the road and people out walking. They DID try to storm the palace this afternoon as I suspected from the sounds. Didn’t succeed, but they did try. More details as I have em. Don’t believe what the mainstream press is now putting out about the King honestly trying to make concessions - what he’s offering is rather like a pickpocket offering to return someone’s empty wallet that he stole. Too little for sure and, it looks like, definitely too late to be believed.
Xxxxx

Something really big is going on here in Kathmandu as I write this entry. I’m sitting on the balcony and I can hear the sounds of literally hundreds of thousands of voices, shouting, cheering, screaming, chanting. Whistles, shouts. Possibly coming thisway, I can’t be certain, it’s from every direction the echoes. Some gunfire. But the most massive human commotion imagineable. A police van just went by going, it seems, teh wrong way. Now more traffic. The city is echoing with it. The loudest noise seems to be coming from approximately the direction of the Royal Palace, not too far away. Wouldn’t be surprised if people have stormed it. The hurrahs sound like some sort of victory, but the screams do not. I’ve been here since the beginning of the popular uprising, the revolution if you will and have never heard anything like this, even on the busiest of days with the biggest demonstrations.

This may be it, the last straw. Or it may be just another stand. Either way, it certainly is making a loud sound that will surely be hear around the world. And of course, Lena is out there somewhere. I’m past being worried by now and know that what comes will come at this point. The energy of human momentum is staggering, huge. I’m listening to a helicopter pass overhead, too low, heading in tat direction. Way too low against the sun. The birds are screaming, huge flocks of crows rising up out of the trees, calling out and swirling. Another helicopter, too low, too loud. The only thing that has choppers like that here is the army. I’m trying to see, but I don’t have a clear line of sight and my binoculars are back in the luggage left in India. I’ve regretted that ever since!

Since the helicopters swooped in, the crowd noises have diminished. They’re circling, but I don’t know this city well enough to figure their circuit. I’m going to go and check out the news - both the broadcast news and the word of mouth on the street.
Ahhhh… the crowd noises are back…

Awhile later…
A storm is coming in. No longer ;;lssible to tell what is gunfire and what is thunder to the north. If it rains, I’ll have to go inside where I have no wi fi signal - my ipaq won’t tolerate a drenching. People running down the street, away from the palace. I hate not speaking Nepali! At the moment, theres no one around who speaks English or Tibetan, so I can’t extract info from the hurrying people. No Lena yet, She’ll come in when she absolutely has to LOL.

The only intelligence I have so far is that protesters broke through the police barricades and, as I suspected, have headed towards the palace which is completely ringed by soldiers. They say four kilometers, but I am not four kilometers from the palace and the hubbub is well inside that, so I suspect that’s optimistic OR at some otr point of the city.

Of course, the King is probably totally elsewhere today. He;s an idiot, but he’s not THAT stupid. Maybe the rain will cool down the hottest heads. If Kathmandu weren’t mostly built of brick and stone, I’m pretty sure much of the city would be in flames by now. The thunder sounds like shelling in the distance. Or maybe it is shelling, since it began about the time the helicopters headed that way,.I am hearing ambulance sirens too, so something has occurred. I’ll post as I know anything.

Friday april 21

Too little too late is the feeling of the general populace here. They are deeply pissed off and have lost faith in the king and his henchmen, for what I’d say is damned good reasons. The guy is seriously out of touch with reality. A lot of people think that, if he doesn’t surrender his hard line - and possibly vanish altogether - there will be a bloodbath before the finale. Think French or Russian revolutions. It’s amazing that he isn’t getting it.

Curfew was again clamped down today, beginning at noon on a day when everyone was finally starting to mybe relax and tend to daily necessities. No notice, just NOW, lockdown. I came back to the guest house because I can at least e-mail from here and the bigger shop will all shut down now. In the distance I hear crowds shouting and what sounds like the occasional gunfire. No sirens at present which may or may not mean anything - it seems capricious whether or not ambulances are let through the lines. That weird hush is all present again, the silence of people who are mostly waiting for the next shoe to drop.

My guess is that, if he isn’t a complete moron, King Gyanendra is trying to stall, hopinhg that the momentum will run out, that people will be tired of being broke and hungry and hurting and will back off. I doubt it. There are too many people with nothing left to lose and too many people who have stuck their necks out in this and don’t dare back down now anyway.

I’m about to run out of battery power so I’m going to go recharge and will try to update later. I feel so far behind. There are so many stories to tell here!

Xxxxx
I just lost about half a post and I don’t have the… stuff to rewrite it. It’s tense here, but we’re okay. I’m trying to post something I wrote a couple of days ago before total lockdown made it difficult to get to an internet place. I’ve sorta got my internet working now, but I’m writing this on my tiny handheld with a four inch screen on the balcony of our hotel where I sometimes get a wi fi signal. So I have no idea what it’s going to look like on a regular monitor. Could someone let me know if it comes up okay? Thanks. Here’s what I wrote:

I have all these bits and pieces that I’ve written during the past week about various occurances, experiences, observations and such. I start to write what I think will become my next blog entry and then something else occurs that catches my attention or supercedes the previous thought and I zoom in on that and never finish what I intended to say. This isn’t me being flea-brained (though I’m perfectly capable of such at time.) Rather it’s all about the amount of new, different, surprising or exciting stimuli that surrounds me here in Kathmandu. Everything from the food and culture to the architecture to the ongoing revolution and how that has come to effect every aspect of daily life. It’s about having too much to say and never being quite sure where to begin.

Life is like that. These random paragraphs, bits and pieces remind me of the boxes of beads I had to leave behind or give away when we lost the house in Oakland last spring. I make jewelry and have for years, doing everything from silversmithing and stone-setting to peyote stitch with tiny seed beads. Over time, I’d collected and accumulated many beautiful beads and baubles, intending to string them and make jewelry with them. Sometimes I actually managed to complete a necklace or pair of earrings as I intended. Usually for a gift because it was an occasion and I needed a unique gift for one of my friends. Many of those beads, however, rolled around in their little compartments in the boxes, awaiting either my inspiration or the other beads or stones that would set them off and lead to completion. In and of themselves they were lovely to look at. I would go through and match colours, enjoy the sparkle or the curve or sheen of my favorites and then put them back until next time. Meanwhile, I’d wear the same pieces I always wore, often jewelry that someone else had given me. The tendency was to wait for just the *right* setting or complementary beads or to wait until I had that elusive commodity known as “leisure time” to make something I could enjoy. And, of course, the *right* beads and the time never quite came together. You think I would have learned something from that eh?

Well, there’s never quite enough time or attention to do it all, to complete all the things we hope to do. I left that house and that life with lots of unstrung beads sitting in boxes, unworn. I have unstrung words sitting in files waiting to be incorporated into some larger whole. Maybe even these very words will end up in that category as I become distracted by new experiences in the next 24 hours!

As I write this, it’s Wednesday night, April 19th in Kathmandu. We moved today - from our hotel in the heart of Thamel where the tourists flow thick in the streets and businesses exist for the sole purpose of catering to the shop til you drop crowd to a quieter, more residential neighborhood outside the tourist quarter. The guest house we’re staying in reminds Lena much more of the old Kathmandu, the city she lived in 30 years ago, when it was a little-known world here full of narrow alleyways, pie shops and earnest young seekers from the west, come in pursuit of enlightenment or, barring that, at least a really good high.

There are trees all around, full of birds and flowers. Right now, late in the evening, I can hear the monkeys chittering away out there, though, as usual, they’re shy and don’t show themselves much. From the rooftop garden of this building, I can again see the Himalayas ringing the city, something I’ve really missed since our move from Boudha. The windows are covered with elaborate grillwork, as much for decoration as for security. Potted plants are everywhere, on balconies, lining railings, at the edge of the roof. There is a particularly Nepalese esthetic that puts greenery any place it can possibly grow, bringin the outside inside. Or maybe it’s simply to blur the distinction between outside and inside. There’s very little that’s plastic - furniture here is of wood, often beautifully carved, sometimes bamboo or rattan, again chosen for esthetic. The only other place I’ve been that approximates this appreciation for nature over the modern tendency towards convenience is Hawaii. Life here in Nepal is rather more difficult than in Hawaii and the climate more prone to extremes, so buildings are more enclosed and sturdier. The Nepali people are, in general, extremely pragmaticic by nature, but they also seem to have a love of beauty, natural beauty being a significant aspect of it. This sensibility, combined with a remarkable ability to overlook hardships and things one can’t change, produces a truly unique culture.

Thursday, 20 April

All my mutterings and wonderings make be pretty moot by this point. Today is the day when much shit is expected to hit the big fan in Nepal. Everything is closed, there are tanks in the streets, major demonstrations planned for this afternoon pretty much all over. There’s bound to be casualties. Curfew is already in place until tonight. The airport is almost closed - all the domestic airlines are on strike in solidarity with the movement and nothing is flying except maybe a few international airlines which are packed full of scared tourists. The intersection at Thamel Chowk is likewise full of blondes with backpacks looking nervously for taxis or other conveyances that might take them out to the airport to wait for whatever is flying.

Since we’re not in a hurry at this point, we’re not trying to go anywhere, not even out to Boudha. The chaos and strikes and riots have extended out there by now, anyway with thousands of people taking to the streets in all the districts. Everyone has their radios on to try and catch any news. Since we don’t really understand Nepali, that’s not going to do us much good. Word of mouth works just fine and we’re actually walking distance from where all the big action is supposed to take place today, at the square to the west side of the Royal Palace grounds.

By now, however, early afternoon as I’m getting back to writing this, nothing has een able to get to that spot (which is only a few blocks away from the guest house we’re in now.) Nothing at all is getting into or out of Kathmndu today, including the huge demonstrations that are converging on the Ring Road from all sides, intending to merge and form a mass of humanity hundreds of thousands strong. They will have to cross the lines of tanks and soldiers waiting for them, so it seems likely that the major confrontations will take place on the road itself, at strategic locations.

Or maybe not so strategic. I have been really quite amazed by the innocence of the people organizing the demonstrations, an innocence bordering on sheer naivete! Locations are chosen without a clear thought to defense or escape, often leaving people trapped against walls with all exits blocked. The western tourists who have tried to organize have blithely handed out banners and signs without noting that, in every confrontation thus far, it is those with banners or wearing signs that are the first to be targeted for brutal suppression.

Last night I was introduced to one of the primary student organizers, an earnest young man named Ramesh. Before the evening was over - and based purely on the fact that I am an American who expressed sympathy for his cause - he not only gave me the means to access some of the banned or blocked web sites, but provided me with his e-mail address to use to access them AND HIS PASSWORD!!!! It’s like the kids who go out to the demonstrations trailing long scarves, dangly pierced earrings, shoes that can barely be walked in and then are shocked when they are grabbed, ripped, chased and otherwise hassled!!!

I guess I’m seeing this as a kind of war at this point and wars need strategies to be effectively won. There doesn’t appear to be many people with strategic thinking making the deciions. There’s a lot of bravery, a lot of persistence, a lot of strong hearts and pure intentions. And rather a lot of horror and indignant sputtering when those intention meet tear gas and rubber bullets.

The not-so-pure hearts are not actually being more effective when it comes right down to it, though. Neither the royalist ministers who are trying, through sheer brutality, to maintain their privileged status quo, nor the young hotheads who think that a bucket of bricks gives them power are thinking clearly most of the time. They are simply reacting. And, naturally, these are the ones who are doing the most damage, hurting not so much each other as the naïve kids in the front lines who have banners not bricks.

What is truly significant to me, as I observe first hand what is happening here in Nepal, is the extent of the solidarity, the way the struggle for democracy has extended through every class, every strata, every possible demographic of Nepalese society! It is not a youth movement nor a women’s movement nor a movement of artisans or base laborers, though all of those are wholeheartedly involved. The educated minority share information through written word, but that is passed on swiftly and accurately enough to those who cannot read - and to those who are too poor to own a radio or a television. Mothers and wives are out there; women who work in tea shops, who teach university, who have hopes of a better world one day - they’re going out to march in the streets. The guys who pull the rickshaws stand next to the doctors.

Now, this is, to some extent, because this IS Nepal and the Nepalis are like that - there is a deep humanity, a deep respect for others that is apparent in almost all interactions. The hereditary rulers and the very very rich appear to be the exception, but that seems true worldwide. The elite are a society of their own and don’t really interact so much with others or undrstand their reality at all. How else to explain the insouciance of some of the ministers, the arrogance of the royals when faced with the needs of ordinary people? There seems to be an attitude of “how *dare* they complain?!” And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised as this IS a Hindu country where the monarch, in past eras, was seen as an emanation of deity. It’s what has kept the current status quo going as long as it has, that cultural reverence for the king, despite objective perceptions.

Education HAS made a difference. Opening up to the rest of the world has made an even bigger one. The Nepalis who have been to other places and seen what they are like, the Nepalis who have been through university where they learned of varying philosophies and political systems that work (well, more or less. There’s always George Bush to take into account.) These people start the dialogue, but once the door is opened, it is the poor, the disenfranchised, the working people, who grasp what it means and take up the cause as their own. If this country is going to change, it will be because of them and not the well-educated or well-traveled minority. It will be because the people (and yes, it is possible to identify with “the” people) decide they’ve had enough and that change is worth the struggle. Every day I hear that this is exactly what they are saying.

Today is supposed to be a really big showdown day. Curfew imposed strictly. Strikes imposed strictly. The city is shut down, tense, waiting. There are tanks in the streets and many whispered conversations. I am working on a longer post offline which I’ll upload eventually. This is the only computer I have access to right now, in the office of the guest house and it’s dial up only and costs $1 an hour, which is really high for Nepal, but at least it’s here and working!

We’ll see what happens this afternoon. Nothing much is going in or out of the city. The shortages aren’t awful, but all we could find for breakfast within about a mile of here was a couple of eggs without salt and some black tea. There’s no milk for tea, there’s not even any bread baked for days. I’m not exactly suffering, it’s just weird is all, to be in a place of genuine shortage. Last night there was rice and dal and greens, but no meat available except at the big tourist places and we tend to avoid those. Well, we have peanut butter LOL! And the town seems to have enough biscuits to build a fortress of the packets, so…

I’ll post more when I know more.

We changed hotels today. Although the hotel we’ve been staying at was pleasant and friendly, it was also extremely noisy, being near a number of bars and discos with live music. Over the past week, the noise level had risen to the point where I wasn’t getting enough sleep and was getting insanely cranky about the constant barrage. I’m pretty noise sensitive anyway and don’t like listening to other people’s boom boxes, stereo systems or radios when I don’t feel like it. The night someone turned up the base so that our walls shook and kept it on until 2 a.m. and then someone else turned on a radio loudly at 6 a.m. was the last straw. I had a meltdown and we started looking for a quieter spot that still had some of the amenities we’re looking for.

What we found isn’t perfect, but it’s okay. And very quiet, being on the outskirts of Thamel, the residential section that is 98% local Nepalis with one or two guest houses. The place we’ve got is set back off the street in a somewhat overgrown garden with huge trees, flowers, birds and such. Other than two flights of rather steep and narrow stairs and a faint whiff of mildew, our room is really lovely – much more character than the previous one and there’s actually a double bed rather than a pair of twins. Yay!

I’m writing this on the hotel’s computer. It’s dial up and costs a bit, but it’s night time and I’m not going out just now so it’s better than the alternative.

Have met up with some very interesting people through moving here. Lots going on in the movement. So I wanted to post with this address: www.INSN.org  This is one of the web sites that is blocked within Nepal, but one of the movement people showed me how to access it through an anonymous proxy. It’ll give some info from inside.

Tomorrow is expected to bring a lot of showdowns. Curfew is imposed from 2 a.m. until 8 p.m. all through the Valley and nobody is going to stay put. We expect a lot of demonstrations, a lot of police action, a lot of trouble. I’ll try to keep everyone posted.