Let’s take the piss out of journalists for a bit, shall we?

Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that the New Orleans is now my second home (although I kept thinking it was called the Old Orleans, like the café/bar in Nottm, briefly regarded as the acme of cool when I was in 6th form).

Anyway, The New Orleans is a nice place, open courtyard, plenty of shade. Prayer flags and trees and a good soundtrack. The food is terrible, and over-priced, but it has wireless internet and plugs, so I can sit here all day working and surfing and ordering cups of tea and smoking fags. Which is much better than going to an internet café.

Before adopting the New Orleans I was going to internet cafes to check my email and the news and do research for my articles. Then transferring any documents to my flashdrive via the good offices of the wee lad running the place (because the USB ports on most of the machines wouldn’t work). Sometimes this would be a relatively quick process. Sometimes it would be slow. All depending on the IT literacy of the wee lad. One place I used about six or seven times and got a different lad, who did it a different way, each time. The longest took 35 minutes.

THEN, I would go back to the hotel and start writing, constantly realising little things I wanted to check or look up. Although to be fair, constant net availability makes us endlessly fussy. I’d be forced to admit, ‘Fuck it, I don’t need to check when the Palaeolithic was, I can just write “Stone Age”!’ But once I’d finished writing I’d return to the internet café and play nerd-roulette again to email stuff or post on here. It was all very annoying.

As you can imagine, wall to wall wi-fi, has been a joy. And from my own pc, so I don’t need to transfer documents, and I don’t need to be constantly typing in the same URLs and passwords over and over again. Ah, blessed relief! I could totally do my job here forever, as long as I didn’t need to phone people much. All the comforts of working from home, but better. Because other people bring you food and drinks and people come in and talk to you! It’s the ideal ‘working from home’ scenario I’ve been seeking.

Now I just need to persuade some bosses to employ me from here and I could stay here forever. The phone is the problem. Phoning the UK is not very clear and there’s a bit of a delay – it makes it surprisingly difficult to have a natural conversation – the pause makes you think for a second that they haven’t understood you, or don’t like what you’ve said, and you keep starting talking at the same time as the other person a lot. The conversational rhythm is all off. It’s especially tricky with someone you don’t know and are trying to build up a relationship with.

Anyway, for those of you who don’t know, I work in the nerdy end of the media, otherwise known as science factual television. It’s a freelance world so I do other bits and pieces – writing, mainly. Sometimes I call myself a science communicator, because it covers most of it. But it also sounds totally wanky, so I don’t do it often. And I’ve done lots of non-science stuff, so actually it should just be communicator. Or maybe COMMUNICATOR! Which sounds even wankier.

Random tangent – spellcheck doesn’t recognise wanky or wankier. How superficially prudish modern technology is. Considering that half the traffic on the internet must be porn….

Where was I? Oh yes, digressing pointlessly. So, I’m writing some articles on the technology behind sportswear while I’m here. For a sportswear retail website my friend Liam is doing. I thought it provided a neat answer to the age-old question, ‘How can I save enough money to go travelling when I spend it all as fast as I earn it?’ Hence my occasional references to embroidery or polyester.

Obviously I thought it was a genius plan, not realising I was heading into full-on civil insurrection, military curfews, etc. Poor old Liam has been most forebearing about it all.

Anyway, that’s why I’m working, and that’s why I’m on the internet all the time, and that’s why I’ve adopted the New Orleans. NOW comes the journalist piss-taking promised in the headline.

Because this is the only wi-fi hotspot in Thamel, for a few days, when it was all kicking off, this place was full of journalists. Now remember, this is as much an unreal bubble as the garden at my hotel. One day, checking the UK coverage, I saw an article in The Scotsman about the situation here.

The article was full of gaps and missing the point, and the only local he’d interviewed was ‘The owner of the New Orleans café’. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we can all say hi to Sudesh and ask him how it’s going, I wouldn’t call it thorough research into the Nepalese political situation. Especially not when there are good English language news sources like The Kathmandu Post and ‘United We Blog’, very easily available.

It’s like we were all here, living in one reality, while the journalists were intently constructing their own, far more intrepid one. Sudesh said that one evening the BBC correspondent had been in here, chatting to him. People (including the BBC guy) were sitting about in the sun, drinking beer and laughing. And later on, Sudesh saw him on BBC World, wearing a flak jacket and helmet to make his report and talking about danger and lawless streets.

It’s my theory that everyone in the media watched too much Press Gang when they were younger. But news journalists really haven’t ever grown out of it…

And I don’t mean to say that the whole crisis was media manufactured, it wasn’t at all. We tourists in Thamel were in our insulated little bubble, while outside repression and hardship went on. But even then, people were playing football in the street. There wasn’t a secret policeman outside every home.

And the news coverage often seemed to miss the repression, etc, anyway. They just made it seem like widespread public lawlessness had broken out, and they kept talking about the Maoist insurgency, like that was behind it all. No, that’s what the Palace wants to pretend! And it wouldn’t have been difficult to find out about what the security forces were up to, how people felt and what they were experiencing. You only needed to ask around.

And there are some excellent Nepalese journalists here – people who risked arrest and beatings to report what was happening, and to join the protests. People who WERE beaten and arrested. Why didn’t they go and interview them?

An English girl I met had been interviewed by the Independent journalist, in Northfield Café, across the road. He said he was too frightened to go out of Thamel, so was interviewing people here. My god man, those Nepalese journalists (and hundreds of thousands of ordinary Nepalis) were out there! Why not split your fee with one of them and get them to report in that case? Fear is no excuse for not getting the true story. Not when there are ways round the risks. Although, to be fair, The Independent’s coverage was the best I saw from the British press.

And, to be even more fair, the coverage did improve as the crisis went on. Articles started getting some of the nuances and mentioning some of the background. I suppose once they’d had time to do a bit of research and talk to more people. But does that mean to start with the journalists were people who didn’t know anything about the situation? Don’t they have stringers here? Or at least South Asia correspondents who’d have had a bit of background knowledge?

In my job, I’m expected to have a good background knowledge of science, and be able to talk intelligently about any area. And be able to get to grips with anything in more depth. But when I’m working on something totally new it’ll take me a few days to get up to speed. If I had to write something about a totally new area after half a day I’m sure I would miss loads of important stuff.

But then, that’s what’s wrong with news. News sources want to proffer the authoritative voice, but they don’t fund the expertise to supply it. So ill-prepared generalists write articles full of howlers, but present them as the real story. No-one starts their article, ‘Look, I’ve just got here, and I don’t really know what’s going on, but it looks a bit like…’ but maybe they should.

We’d live in a lot more honest world if people stopped pretending there were these absolutes everywhere (which they have a hotline to!) and admitted what a confusing mess it all is.

And the journalists were mostly OK, as far as I could see. It’s not really their fault. But, for example, me and my new mate Jim were chatting to one of them the other day. Jim came here with Peace Corps five years ago and ended up staying, so he knows the country pretty well, speaks Nepali, etc. He’s cool. Anyway, it turned out the journo hadn’t left Kathmandu at all. Well, that explains the strange Kathmandu focus of the international coverage!

Actually, until the last few days of it, most of the protests were in other cities. There were huge, peaceful rallies in places like Nepalganj, Bakhtapur, Pokhara and loads of other places. There were women’s rallies and all sorts. In fact there has been some muttering about the fact that Kathmanduites had not put their backs into the protests like people in other places have. It’s like Britain, people in London and the Home Counties are cunts, and people other places are a lot more community minded.

Oh whoops, look, sweeping generalisation, so what you gonna do about it?

And, you know, those journalists could have got out of Kathmandu. Buses, etc were stopped, but planes were still running. They could have flown to Pokhara or Nepalganj easily. It’s 20 mins on a plane to Pokhara. Or they could have phoned up local journalists and asked them about it!

Jim also said he’d been watching CNN and the journalist had interviewed a couple of people on the street who were actually Indian, not Nepali. They were presented as if they were local, so he thought maybe the journalist didn’t realise – he’d have been working though a translator, who would speak Hindi too, so he’d probably just translate and not point it out. But how can someone be expected to get to the truth of what’s going on in a country if he can’t tell that the people he’s asking are foreigners?

And this is the coverage that decides world public opinion! And hence the response of the international community. You lot are smart, well-informed and media savvy, what do you suggest we do about it?

Anyway, brief news update

Yesterday’s papers were full of the news that on Wednesday, in Belbari, the Army opened fire on a crowd of demonstrators, killing six people. The people were demonstrating because troops from the barracks had gang-raped a local woman and shot her.

The army’s line is that the woman had broken into the barracks in the middle of the night and the demonstrators were suspected Maoists insurgents. The woman was 22 and had two kids and ran a local guesthouse.

That’s the sort of thing that means the people don’t like the Army and don’t trust them.

Yesterday there was a huge, orderly, gathering in the centre of Kathmandu, addressed by the Seven Party Alliance leaders. Apparently they were saying talking about a roadmap and promising they wouldn’t sell the people out, etc. It’s still going to be a long road to true democracy. The new PM, GP Koirala, is 84 and also tainted by past corruption scandals. Politics here is littered with them.

And, in other news, I have pretty much finished my articles. No more polyester for me! The internet here isn’t working today so I’m going to go now to email them and post this. And then I might head off and see what’s happening everywhere outside this fragrant bubble. Or I might go clothes shopping, we’ll see. It’s roasting hot by the way.

Oh yeah, and a couple of other random things

It's struck me often that the mix of travellers here is very different from a lot of places I've been. There's loads of outdoor types (for obvious reasons), a lot of them older. But they're people you'd rarely meet travelling in India, say. And there's relatively few of the 'normal travellers' that I met a lot in China - round-the-worlders, that kind of thing. I was saying this to someone the other night who'd been here for longer. He said, 'yeah, you get three types of people here, outdoor types, volunteers and hippies'. I am concerned. I think this must mean I'm a hippy. Although I'm possibly in danger of crossing over into 'do-gooder'.

Will someone please remind me, the next time I'm planning to travel anywhere, that I should take more than seven pairs of socks with me? My obsession with trying to pack light means I get to that many socks and pants and go, 'Oh that'll be fine, I can wash them', but actually, having to wash clothes every six days (you're wearing one pair, remember) is a pain. And it's a pretty illogical weight-saving strategy for someone who's packed nine books, two A4 notebooks and a laptop.

Mind you, words are important and socks are easy to buy anywhere...

I'm a bit hungover today

I ended up drinking 'til about 3am with a load of people, including some British Embassy staff. They were the loudest (and last) table left in the bar. As we were leaving I noticed a Scottish accent and went over to say hello. Needless to say the table contained two drunk weegies, among others. We joined them and drank more toasts to loktantra (democracy) while they annoyed the waiter and sang out of tune. Ah, her majesty's finest, it makes you proud to be British.

I woke up very thirsty with a hurting head and I keep coming to and noticing I've been staring into space pointlessly for 20 minutes. Ah well, it's not everyday you see people win their fight for democracy against a despotic regime, I reckon that's worth a bit of a hangover.

Today everywhere is back to normal - everything open, streets very busy. It's weird - everywhere looks different! There'd been curfews or strikes to some degree the whole time I've been here. Now I miss turnings or can't find places because shop goods on display (or the millions of people) are obscuring things I used to navigate by.

The mysterious cows

But what I really want to know is, where did all the cows go? All of a sudden there are cows wandering down the street, grazing on rubbish piles, as you expect on the subcontinent. But they haven't been there during curfews and bandhs. Where have they been? Did they know about the curfews and hang out in some cow hotel garden? Were they joining the protests out on the Ring Road? Do they actually belong to people, who kept them at home, out of harm's way? I've always thought that the sacred cows didn't belong to anyone, but maybe they do. I shall have to ask someone.

Bangladeshi Roads, take me home

I discovered a strange fact last night. I was talking to this Canadian guy who plays the guitar. He takes it travelling with him and was saying that he's started learning to play the standards, because people always ask you for a song and want certain songs - the Beatles or whatever - which he never knew how to play. He said it was funny what songs were popular in different places. That in Bangladesh there was one particular song that everybody wanted, 'Some John Denver song'. About five minutes later 'Country Roads' came on the stereo and he went, 'That's it! That's the song they always wanted in Bangladesh!'

Sarah is obviously the reincarnation of a Bangladeshi! At the very least she should go travelling there - forget the Sinai my dear, Bangladesh is your spiritual home!

*For those of you unacquainted with my friend Sarah, Country Roads is her favourite song, so much so that we had to sing it instead of a hymn at her wedding.

Surprise!

Another thing which is quite weird at the moment is that there are still people returning from treks. Some of the treks last three weeks, so there are people who left before it all started, or just at the beginning, before anyone knew how big it was going to get, arriving back in Kathmandu and going, 'What the Fuck?'

Can you imagine what that's like? Probably better than for the people who were getting back a few days ago to find the bustling city they'd left turned into a locked down police state, I suppose. I was talking to a guy last night who'd been away for ten days - so he knew things were kicking off before he left - but he said it was still pretty weird. And that while they were in the mountains there was hardly any news - no internet, very few radios (and because of the mountains you can only get local fm stations, which didn't seem to be operating many places). And I thought not knwing what was going on was frustrating here...

Ah, shopping

Anyway, I have of course started buying clothes. They have amazing skirts here. Like an in-your-face gypsy who liked primary colours would wear. Not like the gypsy skirts that everyone's been wearing at home at all - no tiers, just rough cotton in bright colours with embroidery or patches round the bottom. They look fantastic! I have restricted myself to one so far but the rest of them are calling to me.

Obviously your judgement is skewed by the fact that everyone here is dressed like a hippy, and when I get home these skirts will probably look ridiculous. But fuck it, I often look ridiculous anyway, no point worrying about it now. I'm also being drawn to fancy belts with shells and mirrors on. I'm mentally calling the outift gypsy pirate queen. It's the look I was born for! You'll all refuse to sit next to me on public transport when I get back...

Other stuff I've been meaning to tell you about...

The store cupboard

Did I tell you about my civil unrest preparations? You know how I mentioned my 'be prepared' keyring. I also, naturally, had stocked up on 'in the event of a prolonged siege' supplies. Namely, two packets of bombay mix, two packets of sultanas, one of mixed fruit and nuts, two bars of chocolate, two large packets of biscuits, several large bags of crisps (unfortunately only 'masala' flavour available - they looked at me like I was mad when I asked if they had plain) and 3 litres of orange juice.

I also have iodine (for endless supplies of safe water that tastes like shit), lots of books and a fully stocked iPod.

I never really expected things to get that bad, but there was a point where I started thinking, 'you know, if there really was a mega-curfew and no food left, you'd feel really stupid if you'd not stocked up on anything'. I'm not sure this would really have helped. But it was probably enough to keep hunger at bay for three days and I'm sure the Embassy would manage to evacuate us in that kind of timescale. Well, I was until I met the Embassy staff.

Actually, that's not very fair. A friend of a friend of Maria's, a British lad, was one of the tourists arrested after the 'tourists' demonstration'. Poor lad wasn't even participating, just standing nearby, and he had red hair. Poor old gingers. The UN and the Nepali Red Cross were supposed to be sorting it out and informing the Embassies, but they did fuck all. Maria and the guy's mate found out where they'd been taken and went to see him. Obviously western prisoners were being kept in much better conditions than political prisoners usually are, but still, the poor guy was in Nepal for a three week holiday and had only been here two days. He was pretty freaked out. The mate phoned the British Embassy and they had all the tourists (non-Brits too) out in half an hour. Hurrah!

Anyway, now I've got piles of high-calorie, non-perishable food that I need to eat up. But let's see what happens on Friday. I may end up needing it after all.

Curfew entertainment

Everyone's been making jokes about the situation during the curfew. People would say, 'how was your curfew today?', and 'Have a nice curfew!'. One recurring theme has been that if it got really boring we should put on concerts, in the guesthouse garden, or the New Orleans, to relieve the curfew boredom. It always conjured images of the Sound of Music crossed with Tenko. All jolly hockeysticks and British pluck.

I picture myself played by Penelope Keith, for some reason. But then, what little girl doesn't dream of growing up to be Penelope Keith? Oh, I see, just me then?

Better than being the Julie Andrews character, surely?

Well, that's it for now. Have fun kids. And raise a glass for people's power tonight!

To answer your comments questions - The ordinary people HATE the King. They don't trust him, they think he murdered his brother, they think he doesn't care about the people and gets rich off their backs. That he's ordered troops to deal so harshly with demonstrations has been the nail in his coffin.

You've got to understand that he didn't seize power because it was the only way to deal with the Maoist situation. The Maoists were his excuse for a power grab. Political 'disappearances' or arrests are commonplace - journalists, politicians he doesn't agree with, human rights workers. People have been living under a despot, and they don't trust him to wield his powers wisely or with concern for the people.

Also, corruption and cronyism is endemic - this is the 7th poorest country in the world, with a fabulously wealthy Royal Family.

People said to me, 'Just go now, King'. They see no role for him in future. When I first arrived people were talking about wanting democracy, now they are talking about wanting a republic.

I've just been down to Ratna Park. A big park in the centre of Kathmandu - there are thousands, probably tens of thousands of people there to celebrate their victory. Speeches, chanting, flags, etc. A pretty party atmosphere. I was talking to people and they were saying, we have democracy now, but we want a republic, it will take more time.

I've seen that the SPA have accepted the King's offer and the Maoists rejected it. This is indeed a problem. This would leave the Maoists out in the cold - which is not actually what the people want - they want the Maoists brought into mainstream politics. Also, the King hasn't addressed the question of his control of the Army - as long as he controls the Army he can do this again. And of course he hasn't addressed the question of him fucking off and Nepal becoming a republic.

I'm amazed actually that the SPA have accepted the offer. I suspect the people are going to feel pretty sold out.

Apparently the security forces are blocking the routes into the city again. So there'll probably be demos/parties on the Ring Road again. In fact I might go out and see while it's still light.

Oooo, forgot to say, I just got interviewed for BBC Scotland news at lunchtime (I was interviewed for Good Morning Scotland earlier) - Stephen passed on my details. Hopefully I managed to correct some of the mistakes that keep getting made in the media, although of course I keep thinking of the things I should have said. Don't know if they'll use it - I was probably babbling and not leaving long enough pauses to edit with. But at least my parents can't hear it and have further kittens.

The midnight march

Well everything has changed now.

I'm writing this at 2.30am, Tuesday 25th. I’ve just got back in. Earlier on this evening there was an announcement – The King would make a statement later. We’d already heard there would be curfews tomorrow – people were expecting that the King would say something bad. You don’t announce a curfew when you’re about to grant the people’s demands, right?

At 10.30pm the TV announced that the King would speak at 11.30pm. I didn’t think I’d last ‘til then. I’d had an unaccustomed joint. I went to bed. A bit after 11.30 – more like 12, I heard cheering and shouting, but I thought someone would come and wake me if it was good news, so I wasn’t sure what had happened. I’d almost been falling asleep, so tried to go back to sleep. The noise though didn’t die down. After a bit I could hear people in the street, chanting and walking. Lots of people.

Eventually I had to come down to see what had happened. No-one was in the communal area, or in the garden, the night watchman was at the gate and it sounded like the people were nearby, one of the French girls came out of the other building and we were asking the nightwatchman. He said it was difficult to explain in English, but that the King had agreed to democracy. But he seemed to have reservations. He said ‘I didn’t understand all of King’s speech’. Other people arrived, they were saying the King had made, not all concessions, but some. That the people were very happy, that it was democracy, ‘We won!’

I was flabbergasted, but the girls were going back to bed and the nightwatchman was on watch, so I went back to bed, thinking I’d find out more in the morning. Of course also wanting to be out there seeing what was happening. After a short while, with more chanting getting loud again outside, I knew I wouldn’t sleep. I was thinking I could go out, just into the street to see what was going on.

I put on my boots with no socks (I only have one clean pair left), grabbed a bottle of water and went downstairs. A few people were up, sitting quietly talking. The noise of chanting had receded now. I sat with them and lit a fag, we were all talking about what had happened. How tomorrow the demonstrations will be full of confidence now. How people are near to getting what they want and they won’t give up now.

Then the owners wife and her friend came to the gate (they live in another house nearby). They were very excited and happy, they said her husband had gone to join the demonstration, up near the bus station. One of the lads looked around and said, ‘let’s go, eh?’ I was on my feet straight away. I had to see this!

We set off, a couple of staff, a couple of guests, walking up the road towards the ring road. We had to pass one group of soldiers, but they did nothing to stop us. We headed down a long road towards the bus station – a couple of km away. We walked for ages. Along the way we could faintly here the demonstration ahead of us. Also the occasional knot of people coming the other way, sometimes they would start clapping or whistling or cheering. Sometimes people would look out of their windows and laugh or clap.

One of the lads had a torch, sensibly, to pick out the bigger potholes or piles of rubbish to avoid. The air was still slightly warm – warmth coming out from the stones and the roadway after a hot day. We were walking quite fast. Occasionally we’d pass other people going the same way. A couple of motorbikes passed us, who the lads thought were press, but I didn’t see the signs.

We came to the ring road and turned left, onto the big, open road. We could hear the demonstration ahead of us louder now, but it was moving fast, it had sounded not too far away for a while, but we didn’t catch up with it. But now there were more and more people heading the same way. We passed the bus station. It was difficult to know when it stopped being people walking to the demonstration and became the demonstration.

We saw the hotel owner and one of the other guests and a couple of staff and joined up with them. The crowd were making more noise now. I noticed a couple of people look our way and doubletake, surprised. One of the lads laughed and said to me, ‘You make them feel braver, they are saying, "look even foreigners are here, it is good, it is OK".’ The procession stopped briefly, for some people at the front to shout slogans and wave their arms in the air. Then we carried on.

It was like a great gig or a club kicking off, or a football match. Everyone was exuberant. Spontaneous clapping, whistling or chanting breaking out. They were chanting ‘We want democracy’, ‘No more King’, 'This is the People's victory' and 'The movement goes on'.

There were maybe a few hundred people there. It was difficult to know where the demonstration began or ended exactly, it was spread out. We were still walking pretty fast. Fit buggers, these Nepalis. You’d never get a British demonstration going half as fast. Although it was mainly young to middle aged men – there were a few woman, but not loads.

We passed a police van parked at the side of the road. As far as I could see there was only one police guy. He was out of his van, standing ahead of it, and laughed and joked with the crowd passing him. After we passed him, he drove through the crowd, trying to get to somewhere ahead of us and after a little resistance the crowd let him through without rancour.

We walked and walked. (and chanted and chanted) Eventually we came to the bit of the ring road near our hotel. The police were stopping the way. Very brave of them really. I couldn’t see the front. I don’t know if they had guns. But there were policewomen there, standing right at the front facing the crowd.

Someone at the front started addressing the crowd. I found out afterwards he was saying, ‘OK, we have to stop now, we’ll go home peacefully, but tomorrow we go on and we wait to see what they say and we go on and we get democracy.’ The crowd was down to maybe three hundred now, we’d been losing stragglers. They started to disperse and the police stood aside. Our group, and a few others, headed up the road towards Thamel and our guest house.

We got home a bit before 2.30am, ordered a beer and drank a toast to Nepal and democracy. We sat and quietly talked for a bit. No-one can believe it. The Nepali guys were saying that history has been made tonight, That they didn’t know if it would come and that they had been afraid what would happen – if the King could continue his autocracy after so many days of strike and problems then it could get very bad. Now they feel like they have hope again and they are nearly there – still a way to go, but nearly there.

Quite apart from history, etc, it felt good to stride round the city, after so many days cooped up in just a few streets. The Nepalis have been much more restricted than the tourists. They were saying it felt ‘so cool’ to be walking the streets again, feeling brave and like no-one could do anything to then.

I've been so impressed by the Nepali people. It sounds stupid and I always hate it when people say the so-and-so people are like so-and-so - people are individuals the world over. But for 20 days of strikes and shortages and curfews and beatings they've continued to believe in collective action and people's power. People have walked for miles, sometimes days, to come to these demonstrations. And they've kept their good humour.

They deserve this more than anyone does. I hope it works out. Maybe it’s all true. Maybe the people united WILL never be defeated.

Breakfast-time

Everyone's smiling this morning. No curfew, everything's open again. Vehicles in the streets! So, the smog is back - ah, the smell of democracy!

The front page of the Kathmandu Post has a banner across the top - 'People Power Wins'.

They also quote a poll which found 90% of people in favour of a democratic republic and only 0.8% in favour of an active monarchy. They quote the King's speech - he has re-instated the suspended house of representatives, the first session to be held this Friday. He also acknowledges the people's movement and regrets the deaths. It's a lot better than the last statement but there's still a way to go here and still no-one knows what will happen.

I think the big demonstrations planned for today will still go ahead, but maybe in different form. I'm going to go out and see!

Update and normal travel bitching

+++I tried to post this yesterday but was having probs - seems to be working now+++

Well yesterday was much like the day before – curfew, demonstrations. No police/army in Thamel this time – I think they are pretty stretched elsewhere. Also, yesterday the demonstrators didn’t come inside the ringroad. A lot of the security presence the day before was surrounding the palace to keep demonstrators away from the King.

Anyway, it’s all same, same so I’m going to write about something else for a bit.

Bad mood

I’m in a bit of a grumpy mood today. I was like this early last week too. People have been saying it must be exciting/exhilarating. And it kind of is. But it’s also kind of stressful. Well, that seems pretty obvious, huh? But it’s the lack of information that’s stressful I think.

Early last week I was getting really fractious that no-one had replied to my emails since Friday. Then someone pointed out that it had been Easter bank holiday. Ah, right, it’s not that everyone’s ignoring me/everyone in the world has died/all emails are being intercepted by the palace. Phew!

Not that I was really thinking those things, but it’s very easy to enter a state of non-specific stress. Or displacement stress maybe. You don’t really know what you’re worrying about, but you just feel more stressed about little things than you would normally. And I’m maybe not the best person at realising I’m feeling like that.

Exhibit A – My keyring.

Look at this keyring. Do you want to know what’s on it?

1 swiss army knife (variety: Spartan, includes bottle opener, corkscrew and miniature tweezers, among other things.)

1 mini LED torch

1 thermometer

1 compas

Is this not the keyring of someone who likes to think of themselves as able to cope with anything?

Quick-eyed readers will, however, have noticed that there is no, ‘escape safely from civil unrest’ tool. Nor a ‘magically know exactly what’s going on, even in countries thousands of miles from home where you don’t speak the language’ device.

In my rucksack I also have a survival tin (containing, among other things, firelighting tools, a mini wiresaw blade, fishing line and weights…). If I get lost in the jungle (and I can remember my survival training) then I’ll be able to survive for weeks! I even have a survival blanket, iodine and para cord. (Para cord is like super-duper string that is the SAS’s answer to gaffer tape – they’ll all have a story of triumphing over impossible odds that contains the line ‘and all I had was a little bit of para cord…’)

How Tank Girl is that? What good are these things to me at the moment? No fucking good whatsoever!

It’s the uncertainty and lack of information which stresses you out. Everyone is in the same boat I suppose, even the Nepali people. But I don’t even speak the language. Someone suddenly starts shouting in the street, and you’ve no idea if they’re saying, ‘The Army are on their way’ or ‘Has anyone seen my brother?’ or ‘Sports socks, three pairs for a pound!’

You can’t read what’s happening – and it’s not just the language, it’s the nuances of everything.

Yesterday I was sitting having breakfast in a hotel restaurant in Thamel when an police van stopped outside. A police officer (older than all the kids with riot shields, looking important, but with a plaster across his cheek) came in to the hotel, spoke to someone (the manager?), everyone looking serious. A few minutes later someone is carried out from the hotel and put in the back of the police van. I couldn’t see who it was because lots of people had stopped and were watching, blocking the view.

My god, your intrepid blogger thought, I’m witnessing a political arrest! I asked the waiter what was happening, and he explained that it was a traveller who’d just got back from trekking and fallen ill – they were worried about him and no ambulances were running, so they called the police who were taking him to hospital. Stand down Sophia, you are not Kate Adie.

Another thing that’s isolating is, well, the isolation. If something like this was happening in the UK and I was in Edinburgh I would know things well before the news did. People would be phoning each other, passing on info. Jesus, if it was happening in Edinburgh I would know people involved in organising it. I’d be out demonstrating myself!

Here I’m not plugged into a network in the same way. And most of the westerners don’t really know what’s going on anyway. And let’s face it, I’m a bit of a grumpy bugger who doesn’t like lots of people anyway. Meeting people under these circumstances can be tricky.

You have to get yourself into that traveller mindset, where it’s OK to just strike up conversations with anyone. This is difficult, when you’re British. But even when you’ve overcome your natural distaste for initiating social exchanges, there’s the terrible risk that the person you start talking to will be awful, and then you’re stuck!

Let me amuse you with the tales of some of the people I have met so far.

Attempt to initiate conversation A

The second day I was here I decided I should start talking to people (the first day I mainly slept). Sometimes it can take days before the need to talk to people overcomes one’s reserve, but I decided to grit my teeth and get it over with. I said, ‘Hi, have you been here long?’ to the woman on the next table in the Pilgrim’s bookshop café. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Have you been here long?’ I repeated. ‘I no understand you!’ (this was not said in a very friendly manner, but I soldiered on) ‘How long have you been in Kathmandu?’ I tried, with a smile. ‘Why!’ ‘Errr, I was going to ask about places to visit.’ ‘I don’t understand! I don’t understand what you say!’ ‘Err, well, OK then. Thanks.’ She was reading a newspaper in English! I felt suitably rebuffed.

Attempt to initiate conversation B

I tried to strike up a conversation with a guy on the next table in another café. He had dreads and looked alright. I thought this was promising. Unfortunately he was French and spoke about as much English as I do French. We battled on, with goodwill on both sides, but it’s difficult to discuss a complex political situation using only regular verbs in the present tense.

It was a shame because he was nice and called me ‘charming Scottish girl’ when he left. OK, so I confess, he was cute.

ATIC C

I have already told you about the hippy woman at my guest house and her healing and finding herself. She’s alright actually. But someone whose conversation is peppered with vague references to ‘energy’ is not the companion I would choose to sit commentating a revolution with.

This is the thing. I’m not a journalist, but I am a media professional at heart. I want to be analysing everything and swapping information. Not balancing my shakras, as if that will help.

ATIC D

There’s this Canadian guy who hangs out in my guest house. He doesn’t stay there, but he’s mates with the owner. He’s spent a lot of time in Nepal in the last few years and got married to a Nepalese woman last Monday.

‘I run an NGO’ he said to me, portentously, when I asked him what he was doing here. He’s about 27. It’s a small orphanage, apparently. He’s learnt Nepali and now speaks English with a pronounced Nepali accent. I find this very affected. He has a tendency to see his every utterance as profound. He’s been playing backgammon and chess a lot with his Dad (who came for the wedding) and he wins every game and he plays to win every game.

He’s obviously the saviour of the Nepali people. And a far better person than all those superficial westerners who come here and don’t get married and run orphanages. Because clearly what one of the world’s poorest countries needs is inexperienced Western kids with no sense of humour to come here and save them.

I don’t like him, can you tell? Let’s hope they don’t read this.

ATIC E

Three Aussies, a girl and two boys. I knew it was a mistake as soon as one of them opened his mouth and slurred a greeting. They were typical Aussie outdoor types, just been off doing some mega mountain-climbing expedition and had been celebrating their return to civilization since 2pm.

They’d ordered food before I joined them, the slurring guy was attacking his veg and potato but not touching his meat. ‘Are you not eating your chicken?’ I asked, to make conversation. ‘I can’t bloody find it!’ he exclaimed, looking in consternation at his plate. A short while later he fell off his chair.

ATIC F

A girl just tried talking to me in the New Orleans café. I think she was probably American. There’s supposed to be wireless internet here, but I can’t get it to work. I was talking to two journalists on the next table, ‘cos they have got it working.

The American girl interrupted to tell me that she’d had trouble at the internet cafe across the street just now, ‘maybe there’s problems, maybe the King’s doing it’. Eventually I lost patience with trying to re-explain and her keeping saying the same thing. ‘I don’t think the King has specially made my wifi not work when theirs is working!’ I pointed out. ‘Oh, yeah, guess not’ she said.

She didn’t really take the hint because 20 mins later she leaned over and said, ‘Do you know when the curfew’s going to end?’ ‘Today, you mean?’ I said. ‘It’s ending today?’ She asked. ‘Err no, but today’s curfew is ending at 6pm’ ‘So you don’t know when they are going to stop doing the curfew?’ Errrr, where do you start? Try asking the King love! It’s not going to stop ‘til the situation is over, and who knows when that’s going to be?

‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’ she said, ‘Why can’t the King just stop the curfew?’ Oh dear. Just how stupid are you?

ATIC G

On Saturday a load of us were in the New Orleans, and everyone had got sick of talking about the situation, 'cos you can only get so far and you've said everything and we don't know what's going to happen. So we ended up doing normal traveller chats - stories of dodgy toilets and nightmare bus journeys, etc.

We ended up talking about the beds here (often very hard) and that horrible moment when you've finally got to a hotel room after days of travel and you sink gratefully onto the bed, and it doesn't sink. And this heavily bearded Canadian traveller, fresh with all the insights leaving North America for the first time has given him, and convinced that no-one else has had them yet, said, 'Oh, it's such a hard life being a traveller! We're complaining about hard beds and there's people here going to bed hungry!'

Yeah, mate, I get it. But they'll be poor whether I'm sleeping on a hard mattress or a soft one. We know, but we can't talk about it all the time, or we'll go mad! And frankly, I don't see what you're doing about it, travelling the world on Daddy's money.

Apart from that I have met some cool people. A lovely older Belgian couple. Strangely there’s millions of Belgians here – not like it’s a problem, ‘damn those pesky Belgians everywhere!’, but normally you go travelling and never meet any – I’ve met about ten since I’ve been here and had other groups pointed out to me. Maybe they like the mountains – it’s like the opposite of Belgium.

There’s also, millions of Canadians – or maybe the yanks all have the sense to pretend to be Canadian. Lots of French, especially at my guest house, which is owned by a Swiss-french guy. Loads of Israelis. And I’ve met a nice Finnish girl, who sounds Irish, ‘cos she went to college there. And a lovely German guy who’s a bartender in Berlin and a lot less po-faced traveller type than most of them.

So in general, while it’s kind of easy to strike up conversations, there is this fear of getting stuck talking to someone awful. And a lot of the people here either don’t speak loads of English or are unreflective outdoor types, wide-eyed gappers, or po-faced mid-twenties Canadians. And I’m a grumpy cow. Or I am today.

And now I need to go and look up information about embroidery machines and write articles about sportswear for Liam. It’s very odd to be still working in all the middle of this. At least it gives me something to do.

Test!

I can't seem to post. Just checking if it's working now.

Update and some normal travel bitching

Well yesterday was much like the day before – curfew, demonstrations. No police/army in Thamel this time – I think they are pretty stretched elsewhere. Also, yesterday the demonstrators didn’t come inside the ringroad. A lot of the security presence the day before was surrounding the palace to keep demonstrators away from the King.

Anyway, it’s all same, same so I’m going to write about something else for a bit.

Bad mood

I’m in a bit of a grumpy mood today. I was like this early last week too. People have been saying it must be exciting/exhilarating. And it kind of is. But it’s also kind of stressful. Well, that seems pretty obvious, huh? But it’s the lack of information that’s stressful I think.

Early last week I was getting really fractious that no-one had replied to my emails since Friday. Then someone pointed out that it had been Easter bank holiday. Ah, right, it’s not that everyone’s ignoring me/everyone in the world has died/all emails are being intercepted by the palace. Phew!

Not that I was really thinking those things, but it’s very easy to enter a state of non-specific stress. Or displacement stress maybe. You don’t really know what you’re worrying about, but you just feel more stressed about little things than you would normally. And I’m maybe not the best person at realising I’m feeling like that.

Exhibit A – My keyring.

Look at this keyring. Do you want to know what’s on it?

1 swiss army knife (variety: Spartan, includes bottle opener, corkscrew and miniature tweezers, among other things.)

1 mini LED torch

1 thermometer

1 compas

Is this not the keyring of someone who likes to think of themselves as able to cope with anything?

Quick-eyed readers will, however, have noticed that there is no, ‘escape safely from civil unrest’ tool. Nor a ‘magically know exactly what’s going on, even in countries thousands of miles from home where you don’t speak the language’ device.

In my rucksack I also have a survival tin (containing, among other things, firelighting tools, a mini wiresaw blade, fishing line and weights…). If I get lost in the jungle (and I can remember my survival training) then I’ll be able to survive for weeks! I even have a survival blanket, iodine and para cord. (Para cord is like super-duper string that is the SAS’s answer to gaffer tape – they’ll all have a story of triumphing over impossible odds that contains the line ‘and all I had was a little bit of para cord…’)

How Tank Girl is that? What good are these things to me at the moment? No fucking good whatsoever!

It’s the uncertainty and lack of information which stresses you out. Everyone is in the same boat I suppose, even the Nepali people. But I don’t even speak the language. Someone suddenly starts shouting in the street, and you’ve no idea if they’re saying, ‘The Army are on their way’ or ‘Has anyone seen my brother?’ or ‘Sports socks, three pairs for a pound!’

You can’t read what’s happening – and it’s not just the language, it’s the nuances of everything.

Yesterday I was sitting having breakfast in a hotel restaurant in Thamel when an police van stopped outside. A police officer (older than all the kids with riot shields, looking important, but with a plaster across his cheek) came in to the hotel, spoke to someone (the manager?), everyone looking serious. A few minutes later someone is carried out from the hotel and put in the back of the police van. I couldn’t see who it was because lots of people had stopped and were watching, blocking the view.

My god, your intrepid blogger thought, I’m witnessing a political arrest! I asked the waiter what was happening, and he explained that it was a traveller who’d just got back from trekking and fallen ill – they were worried about him and no ambulances were running, so they called the police who were taking him to hospital. Stand down Sophia, you are not Kate Adie.

Another thing that’s isolating is, well, the isolation. If something like this was happening in the UK and I was in Edinburgh I would know things well before the news did. People would be phoning each other, passing on info. Jesus, if it was happening in Edinburgh I would know people involved in organising it. I’d be out demonstrating myself!

Here I’m not plugged into a network in the same way. And most of the westerners don’t really know what’s going on anyway. And let’s face it, I’m a bit of a grumpy bugger who doesn’t like lots of people anyway. Meeting people under these circumstances can be tricky.

You have to get yourself into that traveller mindset, where it’s OK to just strike up conversations with anyone. This is difficult, when you’re British. But even when you’ve overcome your natural distaste for initiating social exchanges, there’s the terrible risk that the person you start talking to will be awful, and then you’re stuck!

Let me amuse you with the tales of some of the people I have met so far.

Attempt to initiate conversation A

The second day I was here I decided I should start talking to people (the first day I mainly slept). Sometimes it can take days before the need to talk to people overcomes one’s reserve, but I decided to grit my teeth and get it over with. I said, ‘Hi, have you been here long?’ to the woman on the next table in the Pilgrim’s bookshop café. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Have you been here long?’ I repeated. ‘I no understand you!’ (this was not said in a very friendly manner, but I soldiered on) ‘How long have you been in Kathmandu?’ I tried, with a smile. ‘Why!’ ‘Errr, I was going to ask about places to visit.’ ‘I don’t understand! I don’t understand what you say!’ ‘Err, well, OK then. Thanks.’ She was reading a newspaper in English! I felt suitably rebuffed.

Attempt to initiate conversation B

I tried to strike up a conversation with a guy on the next table in another café. He had dreads and looked alright. I thought this was promising. Unfortunately he was French and spoke about as much English as I do French. We battled on, with goodwill on both sides, but it’s difficult to discuss a complex political situation using only regular verbs in the present tense.

It was a shame because he was nice and called me ‘charming Scottish girl’ when he left. OK, so I confess, he was cute.

ATIC C

I have already told you about the hippy woman at my guest house and her healing and finding herself. She’s alright actually. But someone whose conversation is peppered with vague references to ‘energy’ is not the companion I would choose to sit commentating a revolution with.

This is the thing. I’m not a journalist, but I am a media professional at heart. I want to be analysing everything and swapping information. Not balancing my shakras, as if that will help.

ATIC D

There’s this Canadian guy who hangs out in my guest house. He doesn’t stay there, but he’s mates with the owner. He’s spent a lot of time in Nepal in the last few years and got married to a Nepalese woman last Monday.

‘I run an NGO’ he said to me, portentously, when I asked him what he was doing here. He’s about 27. It’s a small orphanage, apparently. He’s learnt Nepali and now speaks English with a pronounced Nepali accent. I find this very affected. He has a tendency to see his every utterance as profound. He’s been playing backgammon and chess a lot with his Dad (who came for the wedding) and he wins every game and he plays to win every game.

He’s obviously the saviour of the Nepali people. And a far better person than all those superficial westerners who come here and don’t get married and run orphanages. Because clearly what one of the world’s poorest countries needs is inexperienced Western kids with no sense of humour to come here and save them.

I don’t like him, can you tell? Let’s hope they don’t read this.

ATIC E

Three Aussies, a girl and two boys. I knew it was a mistake as soon as one of them opened his mouth and slurred a greeting. They were typical Aussie outdoor types, just been off doing some mega mountain-climbing expedition and had been celebrating their return to civilization since 2pm.

They’d ordered food before I joined them, the slurring guy was attacking his veg and potato but not touching his meat. ‘Are you not eating your chicken?’ I asked, to make conversation. ‘I can’t bloody find it!’ he exclaimed, looking in consternation at his plate. A short while later he fell off his chair.

ATIC F

A girl just tried talking to me in the New Orleans café. I think she was probably American. There’s supposed to be wireless internet here, but I can’t get it to work. I was talking to two journalists on the next table, ‘cos they have got it working.

The American girl interrupted to tell me that she’d had trouble at the internet cafe across the street just now, ‘maybe there’s problems, maybe the King’s doing it’. Eventually I lost patience with trying to re-explain and her keeping saying the same thing. ‘I don’t think the King has specially made my wifi not work when theirs is working!’ I pointed out. ‘Oh, yeah, guess not’ she said.

She didn’t really take the hint because 20 mins later she leaned over and said, ‘Do you know when the curfew’s going to end?’ ‘Today, you mean?’ I said. ‘It’s ending today?’ She asked. ‘Err no, but today’s curfew is ending at 6pm’ ‘So you don’t know when they are going to stop doing the curfew?’ Errrr, where do you start? Try asking the King love! It’s not going to stop ‘til the situation is over, and who knows when that’s going to be?

‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’ she said, ‘Why can’t the King just stop the curfew?’ Oh dear. Just how stupid are you?

ATIC G

On Saturday a load of us were in the New Orleans, and everyone had got sick of talking about the situation, 'cos you can only get so far and you've said everything and we don't know what's going to happen. So we ended up doing normal traveller chats - stories of dodgy toilets and nightmare bus journeys, etc.

We ended up talking about the beds here (often very hard) and that horrible moment when you've finally got to a hotel room after days of travel and you sink gratefully onto the bed, and it doesn't sink. And this heavily bearded Canadian traveller, fresh with all the insights leaving North America for the first time has given him, and convinced that no-one else has had them yet, said, 'Oh, it's such a hard life being a traveller! We're complaining about hard beds and there's people here going to bed hungry!'

Yeah, mate, I get it. But they'll be poor whether I'm sleeping on a hard mattress or a soft one. We know, but we can't talk about it all the time, or we'll go mad! And frankly, I don't see what you're doing about it, travelling the world on Daddy's money.

Apart from that I have met some cool people. A lovely older Belgian couple. Strangely there’s millions of Belgians here – not like it’s a problem, ‘damn those pesky Belgians everywhere!’, but normally you go travelling and never meet any – I’ve met about ten since I’ve been here and had other groups pointed out to me. Maybe they like the mountains – it’s like the opposite of Belgium.

There’s also, millions of Canadians – or maybe the yanks all have the sense to pretend to be Canadian. Lots of French, especially at my guest house, which is owned by a Swiss-french guy. Loads of Israelis. And I’ve met a nice Finnish girl, who sounds Irish, ‘cos she went to college there. And a lovely German guy who’s a bartender in Berlin and a lot less po-faced traveller type than most of them.

So in general, while it’s kind of easy to strike up conversations, there is this fear of getting stuck talking to someone awful. And a lot of the people here either don’t speak loads of English or are unreflective outdoor types, wide-eyed gappers, or po-faced mid-twenties Canadians. And I’m a grumpy cow. Or I am today.

And now I need to go and look up information about embroidery machines and write articles about sportswear for Liam. It’s very odd to be still working in all the middle of this. At least it gives me something to do.

The morning after...

22nd April, Saturday, 2pm.

Last night’s announcement was not enough. The people, the seven-party alliance, everyone thinks so. BTW, the seven political parties have a coalition for democracy, they have been the ones leading the strike, they also have an agreement and a ceasefire with the Maoists. Everyone else is in one big gang against the King.

The King’s speech wasn’t enough. He wants to still be constitutional monarch, he hasn’t agreed a timetable for real democracy, he still excludes the Maoists. Most people think the Maoists should be brought into mainstream politics. And they basically don’t trust the King.

Did I mention that one of the rumours about the Royal Family massacre was that Crown Prince Paras had done that at his Father’s request, in order to secure the throne? It’s like the Borgias, isn’t it? Or some ridiculous melodrama.

And someone said on the news last night that the King has shown nothing since taking office but his desire to be an absolute monarch. The compromise the King was offering might have worked weeks ago. But now it’s too late. I could have told you that! How come the King didn’t know?

Oh, and I don’t know if they showed you on the news, but yesterday afternoon, before the King made his speech, loads of official buildings had got trashed by demonstrators. People say that it was when the King started shooting his own people that the die was cast. People are just totally against him now.TodayAnyway, people weren’t too cheerful last night. Not morose, but ‘grimly determined’ springs to mind. This morning, everywhere (or everywhere I went anyway) was open. Thamel, and the streets around. Thamel, if I didn’t explain, is the small main tourist areas, a few street that look like a Tibetan version of the Million-dollar homepage, come to life.

Yep, everywhere was open, lots of people out, people ok, vaguely cheerful, at least they can buy food, etc. Then a curfew was called for 12. I’d asked the hotel staff when I went out, and they said no curfew today, but then just before 12, I was in the internet caff and the man said curfew was starting, and started pulling the shutters closed.

Earlier I’d seen a small group of protestors, Nepalis, passing the bottom end of Thamel (where the Walden Book Shop is). There were only maybe 50-80 people. Nothing much happened, they looked happy, most of the people in the street looked fairly happy. This was about 10am.

When the curfew started at 12 I went back to the guest house, but I couldn’t settle and wanted to find out what was happening, so I went out again. There were quite a few army about, blocking the end of our street. I went into Thamel, and there were still a few people around, nothing much open. I walked about, there were soldiers on all the roads out. They let me past, onto the big road East, the Tridevi Marg, without saying or doing anything, there were other tourists around, including a big group of people with their rucksacks, obviously waiting to be picked up by a special bus. There were soldiers hanging about this group.

I walked to where they were and looked down the road. From there I could see an APV and also a large truck, both with Army in, I think, but it was hazy and they could have been police. There was definitely a mix of both out.

I came back to the hotel, passing lots more army and emptier streets. Half an hour earlier there’d been people playing cricket, but there weren’t anymore. I came back to the hotel and we’ve just been sitting around since then. People are playing backgammon, or sitting about chatting. The French girls were playing Bob Marley, ‘Get up, stand up, get up for your rights’ and singing along.

We could hear demonstrating, from quite nearby – it’s all focusing on the Ring Road, part of which is not far from here, maybe a km. A bit further along the Ring Road is Gongabu and the central bus station. Loads of the protests have started there. I met a girl who’d been doing human rights monitoring for an NGO. She’d been there observing a protest and said it was horrible, lots of violence by the police.

At 1.30 and then again at 2pm, a military helicopter circled overhead. It circled around for a bit and then went off. I suppose they want to see what’s happening everywhere. We all wish we could see a helicopter’s eye view!

We’ve been hearing thunder, and it feels quite damp. I think it’s going to rain again (I haven’t told you about it yet, but there was a massive tropical storm on Tuesday (was it only Tuesday?) and it rained for two days. Then it’s got hot and dry again, and now it is starting to rain again. I wonder what effect this will have? This rain could change the course of Nepalese history!

OK, it’s now chucking it down. I don’t fancy going out in this, so I won’t go and post this now, as I was intending. I may as well tell you some of all the other tonnes of stuff.Last night I went out to the Old Orleans (where I’d spent most of the day) and had a drink with a load of people. Some people from the guest house, the NGO girl I met yesterday, and some other travellers they knew. It’s funny, there’s still quite a few tourists around (Old Orleans was packed), and because only a few places are opening now, everyone’s packed into the same places.

When everything’s open, people are much more spread out. Millions of restaurants with only a few tourists in. Like being in one of those sprawling Greek resorts towards the end of the season. Now there’s loads of people in one place, and everyone’s much more convivial – because of the situation, and wanting to talk.

There’s also lots of NGO people around. A lot of the Gap year, orphanage volunteering type. It’s not like the UN ambassador is drinking in Sam’s Bar.

Anyway, walking home last night, I saw that there was a small group of Army guys (or police, I couldn’t tell the colour in the dark) beyond the end of our road. They were huddled round, playing some sort of drum and singing softly. A Canadian tourist was telling me that in Pokhara the Army guys, after a few days, were trying to talk to the tourists. Saying, ‘Hello’, ‘How are you?’ The Nepalese people mostly weren’t talking to them of course.

God, it’s still chucking it down! If it’s anything like the storm a few days ago, it’ll be raining this heavily for hours yet...

In the end I read my book and slept for a bit. It's stopped raining now. And people are out again. There's been more demos this afternoon but the rain seems to have calmed things down a bit. Let's see what happens tomorrow...

Things are happening

…very fast. But no-one seems to know exactly what.

There have been more army around Thamel today. Not right in Thamel itself. But close up against the edges. I’ve seen no police today, just army.

I’ve also seen more vehicles in the street. A couple of ambulances (although I heard yesterday evening that an ambulance had been attacked by the army and it turned out to be full of tomatoes. Where does one start with news like that?) and also army vehicles – not APVs this time, just trucks or vans.

About half an hour ago I went back to the guest house, the main street outside had a lot more people on it than yesterday or earlier. People seemed a lot more cheerful, a big group were playing football in the street, a Dutch guy from my hotel was passing and joined in, to general cheers.

Back at the hotel I was told that there was another 100,000 strong demonstration today. But that this time the police had let the demonstrators through and they were now in the city. Maybe at the gates of the palace. If the police are now co-operating with the people’s movement then the King only has the Army left.

All the pictures you saw last night on the news were police against the demonstrators – see the blue uniforms? The army wear a more khaki-looking camo. Look tonight and see which uniforms they’ve got on.

I quickly left the hotel to come out and find the internet again and get some food. The guys were still playing football in the street, this time there were even more people out, a guy was playing the guitar, there were lots of women out, people seemed very cheerful.

I walked past all this, to lots of friendly greetings, got half a minute round the corner and realised I’d forgotten something. When I came back to the street (it can’t have been more than a minute later) the happy people had all gone and there were just five soldiers in the street, all with guns (maybe semi-automatics? I’m no weapons expert – quite long, with a kind of cylinder with holes in it starting maybe a foot from the end of the barrel. They look ancient anyway but I wouldn’t start a fight with one.)

I paused, as you would, the nearest soldier looked towards me but didn’t make any aggressive gestures, so I reckoned I was probably alright. I could see people peeping round their doors and out of upper windows and laughing at the soldiers, without letting the soldiers see them. Two other tourists came from the other end of the street, from the alley where my guesthouse is and the soldiers did nothing to them, I carried on walking down the street. The soldiers just nodded at me as I walked past.

A couple of Nepalese lads were standing in an entranceway near my lane, grinning, they pulled a face at me, nodding towards the soldiers. I’m guessing the message was something like, ‘look at these idiots, they’ve lost’.

I got back to the hotel, picked stuff up, and by the time I was back out in the street again the soldiers had gone and the people were back. People were grinning again and there were many friendly greetings. Knots of men were standing around with radios or mobile phones (which I assume were working as radios) sharing their headphones. I asked a couple of people though and no-one seems to know exactly what’s going on.

All through Thamel though more people are out and people are looking more cheerful, clustered around their mobile phones.

There feels like loads more to write about, but that’s the main news for now, the rest will wait!

Oh no, I’d just like to add we watched BBC world and CNN last night. (Nepal was the lead story on the CNN news bulletin – this is not helping with my parents peace of mind!) And the news reports just didn’t seem to quite get it. Both of them, but especially the CNN anchor, kept asking if the Maoists had infiltrated the demonstrations. Actually the Army have been caught trying to infiltrate the demonstrations with grenades in their pockets to discredit the movement!

And both seemed to miss the point of how broad-based this movement is. Of how the security forces have been firing on unarmed, peaceful demonstrators. Of how it’s not just demonstrations but huge countrywide strikes that even the banks and civil servants have joined. How the King arrests political opponents, even former allies. Check the Amnesty report I’ve linked to at the side – the security forces have killed more people in the last ten years than the Maoists have!

It’s not about the bloody Maoists, they are just the bogeyman the King is using. Last night’s official Nepalese news didn’t mention the strikes and demonstrations (even though it was lead item on CNN!), but lead with the ‘discovery’ of a cache of explosives – allegedly belonging to Maoists. Nobody here believes a word of it.

Any of you who work in newsrooms - go mention this to the editors! I had a quick look earlier though and the Independent’s coverage today seems a lot closer to the mark.

I'm posting this just before 7pm KTM time, it's claimed the king is about to make a statement. Could be interesting...

The accidental revolution tourist…

…is what I should have called this blog, if I’d thought of it.

I set off here knowing that there were ongoing political problems and that a few day’s strike was planned from the 4th April. But these didn’t seem that out of the ordinary. Everything I’d read on the Thorntree (O, oracle of backpackers!) suggested that strikes caused a certain amount of inconvenience (like cancelled buses) but were no big deal.

Maybe if I knew a lot more about Nepalese politics I’d have realised that this one was different, but I’m not and I didn’t. Although it has to be said, I’m learning a lot more about them now. I don’t think I have EVER read local papers so avidly while abroad. In fact except for around the UK election in ’97 I don’t think I’ve ever read any papers so avidly at all. And to be honest, the British Embassy didn’t know.

And all the backpackers are doing it. The cafes have English language newspapers and you’ll see backpackers in all of them hoovering up the news. Maybe it’s a handy social prop because they’ve got no-one to talk to, but normally travellers would be using their copies of The Alchemist (or The Da Vinci Code for the less spiritual).

No-one knows what’s going to happen, of course. Certainly not me with my formerly demonstrated lack of expertise. But it really is starting to look as if this one is going to the finish. The Bandh, or general strike, originally planned for a few days, is now in its 14th day, with no end in sight. There have been huge demonstrations all over the country. Daily. There have been women’s demonstrations, doctors’ demonstrations, lawyers’ demonstrations. I mean LAWYERS, for fuck’s sake. They are not a bunch of people known as radical political firebrands.

It’s just building more and more momentum. The finance workers came out and demonstrated. The doctors and nurses came out and demonstrated. The tourism workers came out and demonstrated. The police and army responded from the beginning with ‘unreasonable force’. But then that’s par for the course for the Nepalese security forces. They’ve been arresting and beating demonstrators, shooting at the crowds, beating up journalists for taking pictures. Foreigners are supposedly safe, but they’re not immune. The police arrested and beat up an American doctor who’d set up a clinic to treat the wounded.

There’s even been a demonstration of families of security personnel, with the families walking at the front of the demonstration, going, ‘Come on, beat US up then.’ At a rally yesterday the father (Sobhat Raj Basnet) of a senior police official spoke out against the police.

On Monday government and parliament staff staged a walk out and demonstration. And the staff of the Supreme Court. Now 25 of the civil servants have been arrested. They are from the Home Ministry (Like the Home Office) One’s a secretary of the department. They are arresting former congressmen. Bank staff were arrested when as a piece of direct action staff refused to cash a cheque for a government minister. Now the banks have all joined the strike.

I’m no expert on revolutions. How much longer is this sustainable?

It seems like the ‘seven political parties’ think the end is in sight and are determined to get there. And people now are talking about a republic, when before they wanted a democracy with a constitutional monarchy. Either I’m going to be watching a revolution take place, or god knows what is going to happen. In fact, that’s exactly what the Indian envoy to Nepal said to the Kathmandu Post. They asked him what he thought was going to happen and he said ‘God knows’.

The US, the UN, India and China have all told the King that democracy must be restored and that the repression will have to stop. But he seems to carry on oblivious. The only things that can happen now are the King has an unimaginable change of heart, the security forces decide to switch sides in an unusual sort of military coup, or somehow international pressure forces change. I get the impression people here are kind of expecting the middle one.

For those of you who, like me, are not experts on Nepalese politics, here’s a bit of background.

A Nepal history Primer

I advise you right now to get your heads round the idea that it’s all very grand guignol.. Particularly as we get up to the present day. If this was the plot of a book everyone would say it was too ridiculous.

Nepal became a unified kingdom in 1769 (before that it was millions of little mountain fiefdoms). That King then founded the Shah dynasty, who have sort of ruled Nepal ever since.

I say sort of, because in 1846 a noble called Jung Bahadur massacred all the other nobles (apart from the King) and seized power. For reasons best known to himself, young Jung kept the King as a figurehead but established himself as the ‘hereditary Prime Minister’. An interesting wheeze and frankly I’m sure we all pray that old Tony knows less about Nepalese history than I do.

Jung changed his surname to Rana, ‘cos he thought it sounded more classy. And the Ranas ruled over their kingdom of serfs for 100 years. They kept the country isolated (not too difficult to be honest, when you’ve got the highest mountains in the world as your bouncers) and lived like, well, Kings.

In 1950, the forgotten official Shah ruler of the country, King Tribhuvan escaped from his palace. You’ve got to wonder what these ‘Kings’ were doing for 100 years. Just haunting the palace shadows, being Kingly but utterly pointless? Muttering to themselves and tending roses in the palace gardens? A bit like Prince Charles I suppose. They’ve named an airport after him now.

Anyway, Nepal is obviously a buffer zone between India and China, the two Asian superpowers, which is presumably why it still exists. The Indians decided to stick their oar in, helped King Trib to escape and returned him to the country the next year as head of an unelected mixed-bag government of Ranas and members of the Nepal Congress Party.

There’s then a bit of shilly-shallying around, King Trib dies and in 1959 new King Mahendra is obliged to hold elections for a new parliament. You’d think these Shahs would be used to not actually running anything, but maybe that 100 years of impotence still rankles. The King didn’t seem to quite get the point of democracy and a year later he decides he doesn’t like the new government. So, naturally he arrests the cabinet, bans political parties and installs himself as absolute monarch.

After a bit he introduces a semi-democratic panchayat system, with local councils electing representatives for district councils, who choose half the people in the National Panchayat. Obviously the King chooses the other half and political parties are still banned.

Mahendra dies after a bit and his son Birendra takes the throne. A few years after that riots strong-arm Birendra into a public vote on whether to keep the Panchayats or have political parties ‘n’ stuff. People narrowly voted for keeping the Panchayats. This seems like a strange decision to me, but on paper at least it wasn’t a terrible system. And it’s not like our first-past-the-post two party system is the best system of democracy imaginable.

Sadly none of it worked on the ground the way it was supposed to on paper. There was a total lack of public accountability, strict censorship and arrest and torture of political opponents. In 1990 things came to a head. Non-violent demonstrations for democracy were teargassed and shot at. Thousands were arrested. Curfews, riots, strikes. Pressure from foreign governments. All sounding pretty familiar actually.

On 16th April 1990 King Birendra announced that they could have a proper democracy and he’d be the constitutional monarch. Back to being the old Shah in the closet. And two weeks later I arrived in Nepal for the first time, completely oblivious to the whole thing. Spotting a pattern yet? Although in my defence I did know a lot about the political situation in India, which is where I’d just been.

We then got a somewhat volatile democracy for a few years but in the late ‘90s, the Communist Party, fed up with it not delivering improvements for the people, declared a people’s war. This is still going on, with occasional ceasefires, and the Maoists now control about 50% of the land area of the country, especially in the West and away from the cities.

A Ridiculous plot twist

Now the Shahs must have been pretty easy going chaps to have put up with being the Ranas puppets all those years. But then as part of consolidating their power the Ranas were always intermarrying with them. Even Karan Singh, the Indian Envoy, is related to the king by being married to a Rana. The Ranas have their fingers in many pies. They must have mixed quite a bit of their massacring genes in there by this time. Or maybe it’s the mountain air. Or our monarchy has just run out of steam, and this is what younger monarchies are like. I mean look at Richard III!

In 2001 Crown Prince Dipendra went postal at a family do. He killed nearly every member of the royal family, including the King and Queen, and then turned the gun on himself. He survived, in a coma, and was declared King, but then died a few days later without regaining consciousness.

I mean how mad is that? Where do you start? It would be weird enough for anyone to massacre 10 members of their family at once. If some everyday person did that in the UK, or the States, it would be big news. But the Crown Prince killing the Royal family? It’s like Hamlet played by Arnold Schwarzeneger.

BUT, that’s only the official version of what happened. Obviously there are competing versions of events. The Himalayas must have been gossip central for weeks… Rumours blamed the Maoists, or other political opponents, or Gyanendra, the new King.

One persistent theory is that it was the new Crown Prince, Paras Shah. He has a bit of history of this sort of thing. And becoming heir to the throne could seem like a motive. When I say a bit of a history, he once ran over and killed a popular Nepalese singer in his car. And beat a night-club bouncer to death with a gun. And these are just the ones we know about. He’s not been investigated or prosecuted for any of this.

Some people think two homicidal maniac Crown Princes seems like a bit too much of a coincidence. But then maybe that’s how those bloodthirsty genes turn out. But it does explain why no-one has tried assassination as a way of solving the present situation.

The unconstitutional King

So, the Maoists are still uprising. And in October 2002 King Gyanendra dissolved parliament, saying that they’d failed to sort out the ‘terrorist threat’.. This was labelled unconstitutional and was met with protests, etc. Limited democracy returned eventually and then he did it again in February 2005. People here are now sick of the arbitrary suppression of democracy, which hasn’t done anything to stop the Maoists (in fact their attacks have increased) and the word autocracy is bandied around a lot.

As I said before, people have been protesting and demonstrating, despite curfews, bullets and beatings for 13 days now. The front page of the Kathmandu Post (sadly you can’t get up to date issues online) has a picture of a sea of people. 100,000 demonstrators in Nepalganj.

The police, in their strange blue camouflage, are everywhere in the streets. For the past two days there’s even been police in Thamel, which I hadn’t seen before today. Official reports say 11 have been killed by police so far. Unofficially people say that after one recent demonstration, the police carried many bodies out of the square and put them in police vans, and then who knows where? 15-37 people disappeared after that demonstration.

People say the King has 1.5bn US dollars in cash hidden in the palace. Enough to keep paying the army and police for one year. Pretty much everyone else has stopped supporting him anyway. Or he could just run away to the Cayman Islands with it.

What it’s like today

The shops and businesses catering to tourists are still functioning. Still have their food and drink available. Although today Thamel was almost shut and very quiet. And the police just standing around. It’s very strange to walk along the road and pass them. Apart from the paradoxical blue camo, and the big sticks they are holding, they just look like any old lads standing around. Bumming fags off each other and looking sheepish. Even as you step round the riot shield they’ve leaned against the wall. You know how when you get old, policemen start to look young? They all look about seventeen to me.

Of course the banks are on strike now. The ATMs are still working – but we don’t know for how long. And not everyone has an ATM card. There’s a guy who visits the hotel, a friend of the owner, who works for a small NGO here. They run a children’s home. They don’t have an ATM card for their bank account. Yesterday he went and got a load of cash out to tide them over and left it in the hotel safe here. He was telling the hotel owner about this earlier. ‘But hey,’ said the owner, ‘if there’s a problem, if you can’t get your money, come to me, I can lend you some.’ ‘OK, thanks, I’m sure we’ll be OK’ ‘But, my God!’ he cried, ‘I’ll lend you money if you need it, don’t let the children starve!’ and everyone fell about laughing.

We then spent the next twenty minutes discussing how if it came to it they could put the orphans up in the hotel. And actually they could make themselves useful – miniature waiters, everywhere! They could bring cool towels to the guests. Roll them joints. And hey, he’s trying to build an extension – how long can it take to learn bricklaying? Kids learn quick, right? There’s a lot of gallows humour.

But back to what it’s like in the streets. The businesses serving the tourist market are unusual. They’ve got lots of money because we’re already paying top prices. You can still get everything you need. Although even here it is starting to bite, and will do more as time goes on. But what you realise is that for the ordinary people, what unrest is about is shortages of basic stuff. The buses that normally bring supplies can’t get through. The Kathmandu valley is facing shortages of vegetables, oil and salt. Salt is now selling for five times it’s normal price.
Salt! It’s seems like such a medieval product shortage. I suppose it comes down to the daily basics of life, in the short term. But people here are used to the economics of it. Yesterday in the Kathmandu Post a migrant worker from the countryside was saying he would return there if the price of salt got above a certain figure.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow there will apparently be massive demonstrations all over the country. The biggest ones yet. Maybe this is what the Western anti-war rallies didn’t understand. If they don’t listen the first time you need to keep protesting and keep protesting. How committed would we need to have been to strike for fourteen days, and keep on striking, about the war? To put up with shortages and teargas. To turn round and refuse to serve a government minister?

How strong these people must be. And what a keen belief in their right to self-determination. And their actual ability to exercise it. I’d have happily struck for two weeks if it could have stopped the Iraq War, but I never thought it could.

Thursday

Well, I wrote all that stuff yesterday afternoon. At five yesterday they announced that today’s curfew would start at 2am – obviously trying to stop anyone getting to the demonstrations. We’re all just sitting around in the hotel wondering what’s going on.

Two tourists went out earlier but got stopped by the army and sent back. Usually tourists have been semi-immune to the curfew but this is obviously mega-curfew time. Normally people like emergency workers and press can get curfew passes – emergency workers, press, etc, but this time they’ve been refused them. The government don’t want any observers. One girl at the hotel, her boyfriend works for a peace NGO – he went out earlier with a video camera to try to document what happens. He’s not come back yet.

I don’t know what this sounds like to you lot reading, but it’s pretty weird. We’re still sitting here with our leafy garden and our cups of tea, talking endlessly about it, trying to guess what’s going to happen, but totally insulated. It’s kind of how I imagine the end of the British Empire.

I’m sure there’s a Carry On film set in India during the end of empire where in one scene they are having a dinner party while the Ambassador’s residence is under attack. Everyone carries on chatting politely and passing the butter, as the building shakes and bombs explode around them and the butler tries to carry on as if nothing is happening.

I wonder what’s going on in the King’s palace right now?

Now in the internet caff

I got fed up of the hotel and wanted to see if there was internet anywhere, so I've come out of the hotel. The streets are very quiet, but not completely deserted. I haven't seen any army. Everywhere is shuttered up, but this internet cafe has got it's side door open and several people inside - mostly foreigners. I've had a look but it doesn't seem like there's much news anywhere on the internet - the journalists can't get out I suppose.

I'm going to go now, see if any shops are open to buy stuff and then go back to the hotel. Needless to say, I've now succumbed to the dreaded diarrhea (sp?), so quite apart from military curfews I don't want to spend too long away from the toilet! Sorry if that's too much information everyone!