Is it getting hot in here?

There's an analogy going around about that's being applied to vols and the security situation here in Nepal. It's that of the frog in a bucket of water, as the water is heated slowly the frog notices nothing. By the time the water is boiling and the frog realizes what's going on, it's too late.

EVen though what's most likely going to happen here is a slow, gradual decline into (more) lawlessness and a failed state, this week saw a sharp spike in violence. Last tuesday was one of the bloodiest since the Maoist uprising began: 36 Maoists and policemen were killed. I'm curious to hear what the media back home is reporting. Probably nothing.

A few weeks back there was a volunteer meeting to discuss the security situation and what the metrics are for VSO suspending/ceasing operations (Basically, VSO will leave if vols are ever targeted, if our ability to work drops below 50%, or if the risk of getting caught in the crossfire ever becomes too high. How do you come up with a way to measure the last two? Excellent question, moving on...)

What impressed me most was just how different people's opinions are. There are volunteers from Pokhara and the west who feel that weekly bombings in public areas and at offices is perfectly fine (the Maoists are quite nice about targeting offices, btw, they will show up at night, ask the watchman to leave, then blow everything up). There are other volunteers who, sadly enough, have been so shaken up that they've terminated their placements. I worked with one of these girls. It makes me very sad to see her go.

I'm in the middle. Bombs are a scary thing, but personally I don't feel that my safety is threatened. With that said, though, I can tell you with some confidence that one of the scariest sounds you may ever hear is the sound of a shotgun going chhk-chhk and having it pointed at you.

Last night was wandering home from a volunteer going away party. There's a police checkpoint near my place (right before Pattan Dhoka), and I've been through there many, many times late at night with no problem. Last night though, I was a little wobblier than usual and didn't notice that on top of the usual two guys behind sandbags, there were about six other soldiers at the checkpoint.

As I approached there were raised Nepali voices, but there's always raised Nepali voices so I didn't pay them any attention. It was until I heard that chhk-chhk and saw a shotgun pointed my way that I realized they were talking to me.

"Maathi! Maathi!" one of them shouted. Up? Up? You want me to raise my hands? No problem, you're the ones with the guns. I kept saying "I don't understand" in Nepali, but it didn't seem to be getting me anywhere. After some time with them standing by the sandbags, me wobbling at the barrier with my hands up, two of them approached. Once they saw that I was bideshi everyone relaxed and I passed through.

Don't tell my mom.

holi

As a Canadian volunteering with (mostly) Brits and living in Nepal, there's a lot of different holidays to celebrate (this will be the third year I do Guy Fawkes Day).

Yesterday was the Hindu festival of Holi, which is more or less a celebration of colour and water ("Colour is life!" one guy enthused on the news last night). Kids are out in force, ready to smear paint and throw water at anyone around. Traveller's Tip: don't wear your new suit or skirt on Holi.


I spent the day at my home away from home away from home, the Pacific Guest House. It's where the new volunteers are based and where I spent my In-Country Training. From the safety of the PGH rooftop I launched water balloons either down onto passer-by or onto a nearby rooftop.

The nearby rooftop was far more interesting: it was an entire family, grandmother down to five kids (who could barely walk let alone toss a water balloon), all intent on soaking as many people as they could. Including themselves.

They fired first. Once they had our attention, though, it became a wonderful game of trying to get a water balloon across the road onto each other's terrace. I would launch one their way, then do a mitenko-esque imitation of Hindi dancing as three would come back at me.

Ciara (pronounced Keee-RhUH) and the rest of the new volunteers were up on the rooftop with me. Initially I think they all had the same thought: 'jaysus mitenko, we're going to get it because of you'. After a while, though, pretty much all of us were raining water down into the streets.

Then we ran out of Holi water bags. I had sent the doorman out the first time to buy bags, but this time I decided to brave the courtyard in front of the PGH to find some more. I danced across, much to the delight of the two rooftops full of Nepalis who fired at will. It was really fun, actually.

As I was buying bags I suddenly heard screaming from the PGH. Up on the rooftop Ciara was pointing down at me- "Bideshi! Bideshi! Beedesshhhiii!!". She had spotted a roaming gang of boys down the street. I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me, but that ever helpful girl was doing her best to rectify that. When they came around the corner, man, there were a lot of white grins on red faces.

Pictures courtesy of a particularly triumphant Irish girl.

Saint Patrick's Day this friday...

and you thought the wet coast was bad...

:The weather in Nepal is something else. I survived the winter well enough. The houses are built to dissipate heat so they are freezing when its cold. However, since the temperature typically jumps 15C night to day people spend their daytime outdoors, soaking up the sun.

Personally I didn't find the winter that bad. And I'd like to thank my father for that. I was raised in a Winnipeg home in which my father's idea of 'nippy' is anothers idea of fingertips lost to frostbite. So while everyone was walking around bitterly complaining, wasting money on gas heaters and doing bizarre things with hot water bottles, I was waiting for it to actually get cold.

Then, in the space of a week, the weather turned around. Who needs spring? Some would say it 'improved' but I'm not convinced. I went from three layers and longjohns to shortsleeves and sandals in a matter of days. I have fear for when the actual 'hot season' arrives.

Actually, I've been in 42C+ weather before and survived, but what really concerns me is the lack of rain. While you all from the west coast have been growing mold from eight months of rain, SAD etc, it hasn't rained here since October 16th. It's the driest it's been in 30 years... as if Nepal doesn't have enough problems right now. The well that supplies my pad (my wonderful pad) is scraping bottom and the monsoon is still months away.

I've become very efficient with the two buckets I'm allowed every few days. My place isn't exactly ideal for hosting parties now, but hey I can handle that.

What does concern me is that with the water levels so low in the reservoirs, the load shedding is going up from 17hrs a week to to 35. That's five hours a day. In fact, even as I was writing this in a nearby cyber cafe the power went out. I had to come home and finish it on something called a notepad. With a pen.

No power is not good for an IT Support volunteer. If I can't get work done, what am I doing here?

Anyway, as a complete and utter aside, if you've ever actually been to Kathmandu and Thamel, here's Ciara ( a lovely Irish girl from the new vols that just came in) and my contribution to Sam's Bar: