Birthdays and such like

The last few weeks have passed in a bit of a blur … A few days after my last proper post about the strike and political situation, the Maoists backed down, allowing the country to awake from its dormant, unmoving state. For a few days before the end of the strike, ordinary people across the country had been becoming increasingly agitated and angry about not being able to work or get proper food supplies. Finally, there was a peace protest in Kathmandu which was organised spontaneously and attracted tens of thousands of people. The Maoists, claiming to represent the people, couldn’t ignore such a clear voice from the people, and thus lifted their strike.

Since then, things have been pretty peaceful but I’m not sure how long it will last. The legal term of the Constituent Assembly, established 2 years ago to write the country’s Constitution, comes to its end on 28 May and the Constitution is far from complete. Parliamentary bills have been proposed which would extend the CA’s term but the Maoists have not been consulted, and without their votes, the bill will not get the majority it needs to be passed in parliament. Without an extension, Nepal will technically have no government and no legal system. I’m not sure how this would be reflected in reality but I can imagine, and it has been widely rumoured, that the Maoists will again bring the country to a standstill. Personally I really hope they sort something out because mum is arriving on 27 May for a very brief visit and I want to be able to show her some of the beautiful sights in the surrounding Kathmandu valley. A selfish reason I realise but it’s the truth … Of course, I also want a solution for the good of this beautiful and brilliant country and its people.

Nothing particularly exciting has punctuated the last few weeks. In fact the most exciting thing has been by Saturday trips into Kathmandu or Bhaktapur where I’ve spent large parts of the day in relaxing cafes, reading books, eating food other than rice and drinking coffee. Pretty good really J Trying to explain to Muna why I wouldn’t be eating “lunch” (read breakfast) here was a surprisingly hard task. She kept protesting that she would get up at 5am to cook so I could still leave by 8am. In the end, I had to explain that I was going to eat a special western breakfast called a pancake. When asked how much it would cost, and upon replying “90 rupees” (about 85p), I had already predicted Muna’s reaction of “oh, that’s much expensive. Why not eat rice? Its free.” I persevered with my desire to eat pancake and was finally released from the house without rice although Didi insisted on delaying me by 20 minutes while she made me tea.

I have just realised that while writing the above paragraph my brain must have unwittingly wandered into one of its increasingly common daydreams because there have been in fact two exciting occasions to tell you about. The first was a lovely visit from Jo and Alan, family friends from Kingussie who had just come down to Kathmandu after a successful trek to Everest Base Camp. Muna had insisted that I invite them for “lunch” which she promised to cook. Sitting down, having already commented on my impressive lodgings compared to what they were expecting, Jo and Alan (poor things) were presented with a MASSIVE plate of rice and then 5 little dishes of vegetables as well as dhal. Muna placed them on the table with a triumphant and beaming smile; Alan and Jo looked slightly bewildered while doing very well with their appreciative remarks; and I looked at the food with a slight dreading knowing that I would have to finish at least my portion to satisfy Muna and make up for the inevitable fact that my guests wouldn’t be able to finish such huge quantities of food at 10am. It was of course delicious and as we all slowed in our massive consumption, Muna pointed out vegetables which were hardly touched, asking if we didn’t like them. She looked rather offended by the lack of progress and I had to explain carefully (again!) that in “our country” we are not used to eating so much, especially in the morning. Once I had finished my portion (refusing the kind offer of seconds) and Alan and Jo had reached their limits, I insisted that Muna keep the left-overs for my dinner, knowing that otherwise this vast quantity of food would be thrown away on the Hindu belief that it was contaminated.

The rest of the day was spent walking to the temple in the stifling and sweat-inducing midday heat, before being welcomed into Krishna’s house for special Newari sweets and tea. These were definitely yum – one slightly like Scottish tablet. (a hard type of fudge for you English folk). Later, we took the bus into Patan. I like to think that this, and our walk through Patan, allowed Alan and Jo to see a bit of the “real” Nepal. As the third person squished onto a two-person seat at the front of the swerving and increasingly crowded bus, Jo’s eyes were a brilliant image of astonishment, amusement, interest and concern – especially when a very young child drifted unheeded towards the open door before the “conductor” finally pulled him back to his worryingly relaxed mother. Ah, Nepal :)

The second exciting event was my birthday last Thursday. I had told Muna a few weeks ago that it was going to be my birthday and she had promised to organise for a cake to be made if I gave her the money. Apart from the arrival of this cake, I wasn’t sure what to expect from a Nepali-style birthday. As it turned out, not really very much, but it was very interesting to see the slight differences between western ideas and those in Nepal. Saying that, I think my experience was definitely westernised by Nepal standards because many Nepalese people don’t even know how old they are let alone celebrate their birthdays.

In the afternoon, Muna came to my balcony where I was enjoying a relaxing afternoon read and presented me with a little newspaper-wrapped parcel which contained some beautiful if rather gawdy bracelets. And here started a process that, thanks to my unusually MASSIVE hands, would be repeated twice later in the day. Given that I can NEVER wear over-the-hand bangles, when I saw Muna’s gift, I knew they wouldn’t fit. After some squeezing and some finger crushing, we concluded that they weren’t going to fit and after presenting me with my cake and some grapes, Muna went downstairs with her head hanging. I felt so bad! She went straight to Thaiba to try and buy a different type of bangle that would fit but to no avail. She promised she would get me new ones the next time she was in Patan.

The cake eating took place just before dinner (I thought this was slightly odd), and when I suggested we had tea with the cake, they all laughed, so I contented myself with just cake. Krishna and his family had come over, and because they seemed to impose no ceremony to the cake eating, I decided to show them how we did it in the UK, so duly sung “happy birthday” to myself. After blowing out the table candles that Muna had placed somewhat ungracefully in the corners of the beautifully decorated birthday cake, it was my duty to cut my cake. Each person then came and took a piece of the very gooey substance in their hands with no plate or napkins in site, and said “thank you. Happy birthday” to me. After serving the 11 others, I enjoyed a piece of a surprisingly good chocolate cake, before serving everyone else their second piece. As Muna had said was what you did as the birthday girl, I handed each person a small bar of chocolate I’d bought for the occasion.

The most amusing but simultaneously awful part of the evening was when both Bina (Krishna’s wife) and Didi presented me with sets of Nepali bangles which all the women wear – a different colour for each kurta (the pyjama-like outfits they wear in every colour). Bina’s pinky-red collection were first and there was no way they were getting over my wrists. After trying several times and with several of these delicate glass bangles having shattered into pieces, flying like missiles across the room, I looked apologetically towards Bina and gave up on bangle mission number 2. And so onto bangle mission number 3. Those from Didi were slightly bigger and she was one determined lady. After the initial breakages, she sent her niece to get the oil. Now we were getting serious. I sat for the next 10 minutes while Didi and her sister smothered my hands in oil and while one of them manipulated my thumb and knuckles into unthinkable positions, the other pushed and squeezed the bracelets onto my wrist, which once there fitted perfectly and matched my new kurta beautifully! I am now however stuck with them because there is no way they can come off. Having been on my wrists through skipping, showers, sleep, clothes washing and everything else I do on a day-to-day basis, they are rapidly loosing their paint … Maybe I will finally bring myself to break them off in a colourless state once I’m on my flight home in 2 weeks.