Shiva's Night

It's been building up for the last few weeks now. The number of babas with their long beards, hair like a birds nest, bare feet and orange robes has been increasing. The Indian snake charmers - all now banned from India as it is considered cruelty to the snake - have appeared in town. Pashupatinath temple has been building tents and organising itself for this day. And all the junkie westerners who think Nepal is the mystical Shangra-la are sitting around with the shakes waiting (I'll explain why in a minute...). It is the festival of Mahashivaraatri - otherwise known as Shiva's night.

Shiva is one of the trinity of Hindu gods, at the top of the pantheon along with Brahma and Vishnu (or Bishnu as Nepali doesn't have the 'v' sound in their phonetic system). Shiva's consort is Parbati, and legend has it that his home is the holy mountain, Mount Kailash in the Tibetan Autonomous Region. Shiva is well known in the Hindu world for many things - linga, his giant bull Nandi, how he cut of his son's head and replaced it with an elephant's head, his trident, blue throat and snake that lives around his neck. But the thing most westerners know him for is the mystic bhang that he smoked. And on this day each year, bhang - otherwise known as marijuana which grows abundantly in Nepal's hills - is legal.

Pashupatinath temple is the largest temple in Nepal, and one of the 4 most important temples in the Hindu dharma. It is supposed to be the place where Shiva spends his time during the winter. So every year for the Mahashivaraatri festival thousands of Shaivites (Shiva's followers) make the pilgrimage to Pashupatinath, along with hundreds of thousands of other onlookers and junkies.

I didn't make it Pashupatinath this year, as I was in my office, but when I was in Nepal 2 years ago, I went and took some photos. Below are a selection of my favourite:

The road to Pashupatinath is packed with the hundreds of thousands of people who go there to visit the temple and worship Shiva.

Inside the temple complex, it is also packed. However, there are some areas that only westerners can pass through, fortunately, so that you don't have to body surf through the crowds.

People queuing up for the temple. The queue was over 2 km long, and hardly moving at all...

...so people sat on the other side of the river and watched the queue not moving...

...and also the people trying to sneak in. Whilst we were watching, one man fell off the pipe they are standing on into the filthy Bagmati river, much to the amusement of everyone watching.

There were many Baba's sitting round their fires, wearing very little, selling their ganga, gaining a little more enlightenment and trying to trick gullible westerners out of their money.

The Baba's have given up their worldly possessions, and live a life of self-imposed poverty. I wonder what their parents think of their careers choice?

Some of the Baba's are showmen. This one, covered in ashes from the fire, was surrounded by a thronging mass of people, and lifted stones from his genitalia. Nice.

The Indian snake charmers dancing and bewitching their charges. The crowd was packed around the small group of temples above the main Pashupati complex. So packed, in fact, that people actually climbed on me to get a look at the display.

The temple has a real party atmosphere, and there are many different places where the Hindu stories are told through dance and song. This is telling about Hanuman, the monkey god from the Hindu epic, the Ramayan.

And of course, the inevitable drug dealers. This one was selling small balls of ganga to anyone who wanted to buy it. Needless to say he had good business. I suppose at least it's better than the dodgy guy in Thamel sidling up to you and asking if you want anything.

The thing I remember most about Mahashivaraatri a Pashupatinath is the smell. Pashupatinath is a pungent place at the best of times, the Bagmati river filled with garbage adding to the faecal remains of the monkeys and pigeons. Then, by the river side are the people being cremated. Add to that the smoke from the hundred of fires keeping the Babas warm and the intoxicating smell of weed in the air and you have a recipe for a really appalling nasal assault.

As for me, we watched the TV in the morning, as Pashupati woke up to its biggest day of the year. The best bit for me was the man being dragged out of shot by a hand as the camera panned around. But then, I am childish and immature. There was one thing I forgot happened on Mahashivaraatri as well - children create roadblocks in order to extort money out of people. So, on my journey into the office, we passed through at least 10 different pieces of string. Fortunately Achut knew how to deal with them, blow your horn loudly and say you're not paying. The problem is that a clothes-lining is very much possible, and I had no desire to be lying on my back in the middle of the road. But, in the end only one rope got caught around our waists, and that left after a brief minute.

It looks as if I'm off on a field visit at the end of the week, which will be cool. Just want to get out of Kathmandu for a few days and get my head in gear.

SAM

Democracy Day

Today is democracy day in Nepal. It has a rather ironic ring to it for me. It was on this day in 2005 that the then King Gyanendra took over the country, stating that the government had done nothing to quell the Maoist insurgency. The day is actually to celebrate the fact that former autocratic rulers of Nepal were replaced by the equally dictatorial monarchy. Democracy never appeared in Nepal until last year's elections - and to be honest, it still feels if it is a long way from settling here.

The fun of democracy day is that it's a holiday - so my office is shut... However, people who have to work for themselves to make money are still out on the street - selling, repairing, begging.

A game that I've been playing with a friend walking around Patan is called dead or alive. The game is fairly simple - you have to decide whether something is dead or alive, state the fact and then, if brave enough, prove it. Pigeons are fairly simple to tell, as if they are dead they normally have a tyre track across their body. Humans too are fairly easy. Most are just sleeping - you can see their chests moving up and down. Those on fire at Pashupatinath are dead. Dogs are the most difficult and present a game as dangerous as Russian roulette. They look fairly dead most of the time, even though they might only be sleeping. To prove you are correct though requires skill, a will of iron and a big stick. The Russian roulette part of the game is that you never quite know if the dog has rabies. So, when it bites you for waking it up prematurely, a trip to the doctor is needed fairly rapidly (or should that be rabidly...).

A couple of weeks ago on the TV, Prachandra - Nepal's former terrorist leader turned Prime Minister - was bemoaning the lack of forward movement his Maoist led government had made in improving the 'New Nepal'. He, of course, took little responsibility on his own shoulders, but instead placed the blame firmly on the feudalists and royalist forces that are trying to prevent the revolution. At the end of his speech he declared that several new policies would be in place by the end of that week - including the crippling dowry system, where parents must give extortionately large amounts for their daughter to marry to the boys family. However, none of these have happened. Just last week I heard of a wedding cancelled as the boys family demanded so much gold and money from the girl that her family just couldn't afford it. So much for the 'New Nepal'...

Another interesting article about this here.

Some other rather odd things that have been happening here in Nepal for the last couple of weeks is that 2 people have been killed by Rhinos charging in Chitwan - the national park we visited in November. The people who died were all locals, but still, shows that this really is wild life.

Anyway, I'm off to sharpen my stick and top up my rabies vaccination.

SAM

A visit to the Dentist - Part 1

It was at Bidroha's wedding, I just couldn't take the pain any more. I had had enough. So, I went to the dentist.

I don't like dentists very much. It's nothing personal, but having spent long sat in dentist chairs, being put in large amounts of pain, being told off and then being charged extortionate amounts it has slightly soured my feelings towards them. And having naturally awful teeth doesn't help as well.

So, the thought of having to go to the dentist - and one who's first language wasn't English - terrified me.

I had been contemplating the visit for a long time. My teeth are always a little sore, but here they seemed to get a little worse. Since June last year I've had in the back of my mind to go and see the dentist. But I didn't because I was just too scared.

I went to Patan Hospital, where I was told the dentists are quite good. So I arrived for at 8 am. I walked in to find a huge queue of people and my heart sank. Fortunately, I found out that that was the queue for other medical things, only after 20 minutes of queuing though...

The queue for the dentists was already quite long - 7 or 8 people in front of me - although compared to the general medical admissions this was nothing. On the walls around me were posters telling of ways to keep your teeth clean and the benefits. Somethings never change. I went to the reception and was told I needed to get a ticket. When I asked where I could get a ticket from, the receptionist told me she could give me one. A bit of a pointless conversation? Maybe, but this is Nepal, and bureaucracy runs deep.

So, I got a ticket, and paid my consultation fee and sat in the queue. It seemed as if none of the dentists had come in yet, as there were just cleaners going around, and people sitting about waiting. After some time, the dentists turned up and the first person was called. I spent my time reading the posters around the walls. One had a women with a lump on her tongue saying "This is cancer, make sure you see your dentist if you find a lump". Comforting. Other posters extolled mothers feeding breast milk to their children, and another declaring "Healthy teeth, Healthy life".

I looked around the room to see who else was here to see the dentist. There was a women who had a white bandage covering the whole of her cheek. Maybe she had a cancerous lump removed from her tongue. A child was sitting sedately in his father's lap, one side of his mouth swollen as if someone had given him a golf ball to suck on. There was an old lady, who was looking as scared as I felt, and a young lady who held her hand to comfort her. Running around was a child, who would go to the curtained door of each room and look in, before moving on to the next. I hoped she wouldn't do that when I was sitting in the chair.

Then, completely out of sequence I was called. I felt a bit ashamed - why should I be given any preferential treatment - but I didn't complain. I wanted to be out of there as quick as possible. I was sat down in the dentist chair, and they asked me what was wrong. I explained. I did my best in Nepali, but when my Nepali failed - as quite often it does still - they started to speak in English.

They gave me an x-ray and then called me back to say that one of my fillings was close to the nerve, so it was probably just a bit sensitive. But, just to be sure, they would give me a scale and polish and make sure nothing else was causing pain.

A few days later I was back for my teeth cleaning. Now, in the UK I can imagine that the dentist will give you a plastic coat and some see through glasses while they are scaling teeth. However, in Nepal they gave me two face cloths - one placed on my chest and one over my eyes. So, there I was in darkness and all I could hear was the revving up of what I assumed was the drill. Why were they going to be using a drill?

Open your mouth, the lady said. Now, I don't know whether anyone else has this problem when they go to the dentist, but it always causes me a large amount of embarrassment. Where do you put your tongue? I try and make sure it keeps out of the way, but inevitably it gets in the path of the dentist's drill/poky stick/mirror and then I give out a yelp. Not only this, but my mouth slowly closes over time, as I forget where I am and revert to the daydream where I am sitting by the beach making sandcastles and watching the world go by. Then with a quick reprimand I am brought back to reality with a request to keep my mouth open if I want them to do their job properly.

As the sound of the drill increased in my ear, suggesting the impending meeting between it and my teeth, I started to fear the worst. All I thought I was here for was a clean, not a filling. And then impact. I flinched out of instinct more than anything else. But nothing happened. The drill wasn't a drill. It was just a grinding wheel - or a dentist equivalent of it. The hygienist passed the grinding wheel up and down my teeth, little bits of my teeth flying everywhere. After spending time going across all my teeth, getting caught up in my tongue and telling me to open my mouth, she then got another tool, some sort of toothbrush, and started to clean my teeth. The months of turmeric that had been staining my teeth slowly disappeared into a froth of what I can only assume was bicarbonate of soda and salt.

And with that it was over.

A week later, I was back in the dentist chair - after several compliments of how white my teeth looked. I didn't know whether that meant they were very yellow beforehand, or just everyone wanted to make me think that I hadn't wasted my money. The dentist looked at my teeth and told me I had hyper-plastic teeth and they were just sensitive. So, just get on with it. A very Nepali response.

However, I still have a feeling I'll need a little 'work' done on my teeth - and to be honest, I'd prefer to do it here than in the UK where it'll be 10 times more. So the dentist story has only just begun...

SAM

Fate

On my daily walk into the office, at a number of points I see goats tied up outside a shuttered shop, munching on some leaves and twigs that has been left for them. Their days are numbered. When then shutters are opened, the man brings out a big knife and one by one they are butchered. And yet, the goats still stand there and eat. Do they not know or have they just accepted their fate?

I was given a book here called Brick Lane, by Monica Ali. It's a story about a Bangladeshi girl who marries a man much older than her and moves to the UK to live. The relevance here is that her mother always taught her to accept her fate, and she carries on through her own life not fighting against anything, going along with the flow of the river of time, always remembering to accept her fate.

As for me, I have a bit of a problem with fate. For one thing, how do I know what my fate is? Is my fate what easily lies in my path, or is it the harder thing that I strive to achieve - trying my best to not succumb to the easy things in life? Maybe fate knows me quite well, and so the things I try to do that I'm not scared of doing because they're harder are actually my destiny, not the things that lie in my path - apparently easily obtainable.

Why all this talk with fate? Well, they always say, God has a plan for us. He knows what he wants us to do, and will reveal it when it is time. And now, as I think about future things, I wish I knew what was going to happen. Or at least had some idea. It would make my life a lot easier. And yet, I don't want to know what's in store - that's the most amazing thing about life that you never know what's around the corner. So there's a thing...

Moving swiftly on.

I went to my second Nepali wedding last weekend. It was that of Bidro - from Ukaalo ra Oraalo here. This wedding was something a bit unique in terms of Nepali culture. It was not only a love marriage, but across Nepali cultures - Bidro from the Hindu Bahuun caste and his now wife is a Newari. No-one quite knew what to expect. So, I donned my suit - even that drowned me due to my underweight situation - and went along.

The wedding day itself was quite quiet for me. We arrived at Bidro's room in Lalitpur and after talking for 3 hours with different members of his family and friends, went to the bride's house. She comes from a rich family, who had a huge house in Thamel. At the bride's house where the wedding took place, we were offered everything - food, beer, even trays full of cigarettes. Most of the wedding ceremony I missed. It took place in a room at the top of the house, and every time I tried to have a peek inside, the place was chock-a-block. So, what made this a bit of a unique wedding I'll never know. And having only attended one previously, I wouldn't have had much to compare against.

The groom and me

At the end, the bride and groom emerged from the room, everything complete. They were led down to the road where we made the most enormous traffic jam - 2 cars and 2 minibuses stopped in a single track street. And with that it was all over.

Work in my office is getting more involved, with some new pits and pieces happening. And it's almost time to think about coming home. Fate, destiny and lack of money are all starting to play their course...

SAM

New Year's Resolutions

Here are some New Year's Resolutions for Nepal and for me - not that I normally make them you must understand, let alone follow them!

Nepal Electric Authority (NEA) - Work out how to power the country better

We're on to 12 hours a day load shedding now - half a day of scheduled power cuts. You might think that because Nepal is a poor country that electricity isn't that important, people wouldn't need it. And that may be true where there are villages not connected to the grid and everything is geared towards alternative light, heat and so on. However, in many towns and cities now, the houses have been built assuming a constant electric supply. So, the lighting is electric, the water pump is electric, the rice cooker is electric, the heating - if any - is electric.

So, it just doesn't make you go to bed that little bit earlier, but it affects your whole life. Every morning, we have to spend 30 minutes bringing water from our tank under the house to the kitchen and bathroom. This is not only because we don't have any electric to pump the water to the electric tank, but we have no electric to pump the water from the mains line to the main tank under the house. So we are dredging up the bottom of the tank, hoping we have enough water for the next days. And water is a big problem. Not enough water means the house can't be kept as clean as everyone would like, clothes can't be washed regularly as there just isn't the water to use on it, and a bout of stomach problems can cause planning nightmares. For cooking, the rice cooker can no longer be used, meaning that the pressure cooker is used to cook rice, using more gas - additional expense. Also, the evening meal is cooked in torch and candlelight - making it more difficult. Students cannot study at night, because there is no light. And those who have to go to school in the day, or work in their house during the day, can find no time to study.

For the rest of Nepal, there is talk of severe redundancy. Businesses that rely on electricity to run machinery and so on either require their own expensive generators, or have to operate a reduced hours schedule. The only options for businesses are to have diesel generators or, if the electricity requirement is small enough, have a set of batteries to run whilst the line is down. The first option increases diesel use in the country, the oil trade here is still reeling from the middle of last year and on several occasions there is no petrol or diesel available. The second option does nothing to reduce the load on the already overstretched electricity supply, it just increases the load when the electric supply is back on. And if some are anything like our office, sometimes there is not enough capacity in the system to power the equipment for the length of the power cut. We've had a couple of occasions when our office went into blackout.

The Nepal Government has recognised this as a big problem, and has declared an energy emergency. They are looking at investing in diesel generators that will generate around 20% of Nepal's requirement. But this is not a sustainable solution. If the price of oil soars again, what will the government do then? And rumours are that the electricity will cost 30 rupees a unit to produce, when it is sold for just over 7 rupees per unit. Even if the rumours are false, and it costs 10 rupees a unit, the government will find themselves driving the already debt-ridden NEA into more financial crisis. Nepal's big energy hope is hydropower. So, when NEA decided to change their buying tariff off the hydroelectric producers, everyone was hopeful that this would encourage people to build more and bigger plants to cover the surplus. But no. The average buying price is around 4.5 rupees a unit from the day it starts to produce electricity, with a 3% inflation every year after. Many developers have found that their planned new hydro plants are no longer economically viable. So they are going to scrap all these plans. And what's worse, the government are currently buying electricity from India for 6 rupees a unit. So, the big plants are no longer economically viable, and small plants that can be built quickly will be profitable. But small hydro-plants are not the answer - like digging out of jail with a toothpick - it can be done, but will take far too much time.

So, what's the answer. Obviously the diesel generators can only be a temporary measure. Nepal's answer must lie in Hydropower. But how can you encourage developers, who want to make money, without charging a large amount to customer - ultimately affecting the poor? I think if there were less fingers in the hydropower pie, then maybe it would be more profitable - as with many developing countries, corruption is still rife here in Nepal and with large amounts of money comes large amounts of corruption. Also, if the private people who used more electricity paid more, and the government made more measures to encourage energy saving which would reduce load on the overstretched system.

The NEA and their international advisors have a big job on their hands. As for us, we're going to have 16 hours load shedding starting from Saturday. The fun continues...

Nepal Government - Wake up and smell the coffee

A 'New Nepal' was declared after the election, much hope for the world's newest federal republic. But that hope is now waning in its people. The Maoist-led government seems to be stricken with in-fighting and power grabbing, much as many of the previous democratically elected governments were. The new constitution, which was main aim of this government has not been started yet, 8 months on. The parties seems to be tearing up each other from the inside and ripping into each other's policies.

What affect is this having on the people of Nepal? Well, I've just returned from the Terai, in the south of the country. There I was told that the pahadi - hill - people who used to live here after the jungles were cleared by the government in the 1950s are running away from the Terai to the larger towns and cities, such as Kathmandu, Hetauda and Narayangadh. Some Madeshi people - immigrants from India - are causing a huge uprising in these areas. Along with this, other ne'er-do-wells in Nepali socity are seeing the crumbling security situation and jumping on the insurgency bandwagon. In Janakpur, the largest city in the eastern Terai, I was told that there are almost no hill people at all, they are all Madeshi. The hill people have been driven out through intimidation, kidnapping, extortion and murder. And the army and police can or will do nothing. They sit in their camps too scared to confront these groups, their posts regularly looted of weapons and equipment.

And when you talk to people in Kathmandu, most of them are not actually from Kathmandu but have moved here. Some are economic migrants, but a large number had to leave there homes - either from the Maoist rebellion in the late 1990s and beginning of this century or from the recent violence in the Terai. This has led to a population explosion here in the Kathmandu Valley. (Incidentally, this cannot be helping the electricity or water situation.)

And the worst part is, again it's the poor people who are suffering. Only the richer people can move to the larger towns, affording the increased price of land and food, with skills that are needed in cities. The poor people must sit it out, hoping that their house is not next on the target list of these groups, hoping their children are not kidnapped, their sons not forced to join the ‘thug army’.

And what is the Nepal Government doing about this all. Nothing. Fighting amongst themselves. Every day stories of kidnap, murder and extortion, and all the government can do is argue about who should be agreeing with who. All the Nepali people want is a bit of peace and stability. Let’s all hope that the government pull themselves together and give this to their people.

There is quite a good column on this, from a local newspaper. It can be found here.

Me - Decide where you're going

Decision time looms for me. My money I had saved for this trip is almost at an end, and so I need to work out what's going to happen now. Something I thought would be easy, but it's not. I have different parts of me pulling in polar opposite directions. What will happen? I don't know. Some deep thinking and prayerful thoughts are needed.

Me - Put on weight (this is nothing to worry about!)

I went to buy some jeans from a tailor the other day. When they measured my waist they said 31 inches. Now normally in the UK I'm about 34 or so. So this is a slight problem. I know I've lost a bit of weight whilst being here, but I didn't think it was that much. So, I'm going to try and eat more - something which I find very hard - and eat a bit more often. But, I know when I get back to the UK, my weight will get back up again - and my new tailored jeans won't fit!

Just before New Year I went down to the Terai to visit Didi, my friend's sister, and her husband and youngest child Bipin with Bibek - their eldest son. We caught the bus early in the morning, freezing cold, and then were even colder when we realised that the window level with my head was completely broken. So, I spent 4 or 5 hours sat in a freezing wind with pieces of glass flying at me in at regular intervals. The joys of Nepal. Our bus driver was fairly suicidal, overtaking around blind corners and leaning the bus rather hard into corners. However, this did mean that we arrived in double quick time - just 8 hours from Kathmandu for a journey that normally takes 10 - 12 hours.

At Didi's house I rested. It wasn't as warm as I thought it might be, still 2 t-shirts were the order of the day, and at night it was as cold as Kathmandu. But the one saving grace was that there was a fire stove meaning heat. Completely environmentally unfriendly, but good and warm. And we slept, ate, read, drank their buffalo milk and talked. I had not really a good chance to talk with Didi before, so this was great to get to know her better.

Me and Bipin - known as Bijuli, electricity, as he buzzes around all over the place

Bibek and Bipin


And after a few days it was time for me to leave again. Bibek stayed there, and will come back at the end of his winter holidays with Didi and his brother. I caught a jeep from the nearest town which got me back to Kathmandu in 7 hours just, which again was great - although the road it went along was rather bumpy and made me very sore from head to tail.


So, a new year, a new Nepal as well? Let's hope and pray so.


SAM

The End of the Year (as we know it)

(Sung to the tune of REM)

I had to go into Kathmandu at the week before Christmas, not something I particularly enjoy doing very much, but this time a necessity. However, on the way in, the road was closed. We managed to get through, Achut talking his way past the police as normal. As we went along the road, rocks and bricks were strewn all over, riot police were walking towards the river and groups of people were gathering. Not favourable circumstances for an easy ride. We reached the hill leading down to Kupondole and were met with riot police forming a barrier across the road. Just past them, in the middle of the road was a group of several hundred people, burning tyres, bricks in hand. We turned and took a back way into Kathmandu.

However, on our return, the bridge across the river was completely blocked. No-one was going anywhere. I was late, and needed to get to my office, and Achut had to get back into Thamel. So I jumped off the bike and told Achut to turn round and go back home, whilst I walked to my office. After crossing the bridge I understood the reason for the jam. Riot police were turning round all traffic, sending them back into Kathmandu. Just past them, another 20 or so police were in negotiations with an increasing rowdy mob of protesters. People were standing on the pavements, watching, not quite knowing what to do. I joined them. I saw the road I wanted to go down and avoid it, however, the protesters were between me and the road. Would it be safe enough to walk there?

The police negotiating with the protesters
I gradually inched down the road, trying with my 6ft3 frame to hide behind Nepali people, as befitting a brave and courageous person. As I reached the junction for my road, another larger protest also reached the junction for the road, shouting slogans against the Maoists. There seemed to be plenty of people just standing and watching, so I thought I wold join them, making sure I knew my escape route if anything happened. But nothing did at the time. And so I climbed from the river via the back roads to my office.

The protest in full flow
When I returned to my office, I found out that it was victims of the Maoist atrocities, during their self-proclaimed 'People's War'. These people had their husbands, wives, brothers, sisters or children abducted and murdered by the Maoists, now in power in Nepal. In a way, it is a testament to the Nepali people that they can forgive the Maoists for their previous activities - just to point out the Nepal Army were also guilty of performing similar acts. However, it makes wonder, how much about these abductions and murders did the higher echelons of the party knew. If they sanctioned it, then they have blood on their hands. If they didn't know, then they have no control over their party - which could explain a lot of the current problems. And should people with the blood of 13,000 be allowed to lead a country? But then there is also reconciliation, an important part of peace. It's a tough problem. Sometimes I'm glad I'm just an engineer.

We had a great quiet Christmas here in Nepal. I was invited out to an ex-pat's house on Christmas Eve for a get together and carols, which really got me into the spirit of things. Christmas morning I woke up, realising I forgot to put out my stocking and mince pie for Father Christmas. D'oh. Not being at home also meant that I couldn't wake up stupidly early and annoy my parents, just as I do every year.

There was a big Christmas program in St Xavier's School here in Lalitpur, but I didn't go in the end as I was waiting for Saru to turn up. However, they say 7,000 people did - mostly Nepali - which is great news for the church here. We had a normal daal bhaat for morning meal, but after Saru came, the cooking went into overdrive. Pilau rice, meat for us meat eaters, and some most amazing pickle from lopsi - like a lychee, but less sweet and an edible skin.

With my little christmas tree, I put the presents I had bought for all my Nepali family under it, and then when 15.10 came - the time the Queen's speech in the UK would finish, I passed out the presents. Rachhu surprised me by giving me a model of Krishna Mandir from Patan Durbar Square as well.

In the evening, we lit candles under the christmas tree. I told the christmas story, and explained the 5 candles used in the advent crown. Then we all sat around the tree trying to warm our hands as much as possible on the heat from the candles.

The christmas tree and candles
Boxing Day, and Saru left in the morning with me. I made my way to the office - the problem with Nepal is it has its own national festivals, and they certainly aren't ours. So our office was open, and I thought I had better go in.

And so, tomorrow I'm off to the plains - the Terai - to Didi's house and really looking forward to it. I promised I would go to her house a long time ago, but for one reason and another haven't made it there since May. It should also be a lot warmer there. Wahey!

SAM

Here's some gratuitous pretty pictures from earlier this year which I don't think I've shown before. (And by the way, that red picture of the mountains was taken from my roof, not a painting, i can assure you.)

The sun starting to peak out from behind the land, as seen from Poon Hill
The view of Macchapuchhre - Fishtail - from Tadapani on a clear and cold morning
The sun setting over Lalitpur - a fitting way to close out the year, no?

Getting into the swing of things

So, I'm back at my office after Mum's trip, and, apart from a week away 'in the field', I'm slowly building into a routine. In the morning, I eat breakfast after the usual cup of tea and then head in to the office, taking Bhanja to school on the way. At lunch time, we all head out to a small roti-shop, the Nepali equivalent of a sandwich bar, for a chapati and vegetable curry. Then just as it starts to get dark, I make my way home again. It's good to have a little bit of routine again in this most unpredictable and unorganised place.

The field trip was to go and help to start a social survey in an area where a new Hydropower plant will be built. This meant a day's bus ride followed by several hours walking to get to our base. We then had to walk to all the affected villages and talk to the local residents about the new plant. It was very interesting to see people off the tourist trail, see their scepticism about development plans and their enthusiasm about the possibility of a new source of income in a mainly agricultural landscape.

The landscape in the affected area was amazing
One village we visited was a typical Gurung village. It was very like Ghandruk, a village on the Poon Hill trek, but for one major difference. It felt more real. Ghandruk had been developed by the government as a model Gurung village, while the one we saw was left alone by all development, so it seemed. The children in the evening played football on the terraced fields on the outside of the village - a passing game was all but impossible due to the steps in the surface. And very few of the people there had seen foreigners before, so it caused a large amount of staring. They also performed one of their 'cultural programs' for us, singing songs and dancing for a few rupees.

Naiche, a typical Gurung village, that felt like something out of Lord of the Rings
So, as Christmas was approaching, I wanted to try and do something to celebrate it. So, Bhanja and I made a small nativity scene, and some paper chains as well. I bought a plastic christmas tree, and we made some decorations to put on it as well. Hopefully, Saru will be here for Christmas day, so although I won't be with my family in the UK, I'll be with my Nepali family. When we were making the nativity scene, Bhanja was colouring in the people and asked for the brown colour. I asked why he needed the brown, as he was on the angel. He said for the face. Not pink, brown. This might sound a strange little thing to remember, but when I was small, people had pink faces. For Bhanja however people have brown faces. So, in our nativity scene, we have a brown faced angel, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, shepherds and wise-men.

The Christmas tree and nativity scene
Walking back from my office the other day I saw a midget - he was riding around on a quad. In Nepal, the land of short people, midget's are titchy.

Thanks to everyone who's emailed me recently. I'm sorry I've been very lazy in replying to them, but I do read everything. I just forget to write back...

Anyway, Merry Christmas one and all.

SAM

(Here's a rare photo of me, just to show I'm still alive, alert, awake enthusiastic)