I notice a trend.
Time period: end of January to today
Books read: various Ken MacLeods, George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London and Jack London's How I became a Socialist
Music listened to (I like having the music thingy on while writing and there's been a lot of writing--or, at least, sitting in front of the computer, waiting for inspiration to strike--recently):
- Billy Bragg: For some reason, my music thingy seems to like Billy Bragg. It's on "random" but insists this means repeats of BB, often the same song twice (or more). And we all know BB is a raging socialist.
Proof:
- Less obvious, perhaps, Elvis Costello (the Oliver's Army version); various Clash songs (courtesy LilSis) and assorted Irish drinking songs (good for walking to and from uni to). EC and the Clash are probably solidly middle-class but have socialist tendencies (in their songs, at least) and, of course, it's a truth universally acknowledged that the Irish are just waiting to overthrow something somewhere.
Right, back to the hermitage. I left it today (more on that later) and it felt fantastic. I believe I may even have talked to random strangers at the cinema and on the bus, thus startling them. After all, this is Washington--people don't just start talking to folks, eh? I reckon, however, they should be grateful I didn't sing at them.
6.2.09
Things I miss about Kathmandu
It's almost a week since I've been back here in Washington and I figured, as I sit at the computer re-reading Alec Charles' "War without End?: Utopia, the Family, and the Post-9/11 World in Russell T. Davies’s Doctor Who" (What? It's for uni, really. I'm finally revising my paper to send it off to a journal, except I can't figure out which journal is likely to take it), it's time for this:
Reasons why I miss Kathmandu (not counting family and Dog)
- the momos from down the shop down the street. The best (by far) of six or seven types we tasted and a perfect mix of spices and minced chicken. Ordering an extra box so KiwiSis and I could have fried momos for brekkie the next day.
- muesli. No one else makes good muesli, I realise, after having spent much of my past week's grocery money here trying out variants from Whole Foods, Rodmans and even making my own.
- the bonfires in the evenings. Since there was electricity only one night of every week (and that from 8pm-midnight), we spent most of our evenings outside, around a big fire. The constant tussle among Dad and KiwiSis about how precisely the fire should be set and tended were hilarious as neither would acknowledge the other was right.
- the books (and odds and ends) spread out on pavements that Dad and I fossicked around in.
- the wedding (since it was my first)
- the fried fish at home (using fresh rahu fish) and the fish curry from the "Khaja ghar" (literally: snack house) at the Gairidhara crossroads. I've actually never had fish curry half as good anywhere and one piece was enough for a good meal.
- the verandah at the house: for sitting, reading and spitting orange pips over railings of.
- excellent public transport: especially bus no. 26, which went across two of the towns in the valley and the "Nepal Yatayat" bus which took us directly to grandma's.
- knowing people in the neighbourhood: almost everyone (especially the older folks) knew us, so walking to the bus stop (a 5 minute walk) included responding to people's greetings.
- the juju dhau (scroll down to "eat") and the yak cheese ("exotic and healthy"!). I've had a lot of yoghurts and heaps of cheese(s?) but nothing else compares.
- the trees around the house. Thankfully, they muffle (somewhat) the street noise, which has increased now that there seem to be heaps more vehicles on the streets (and streets haven't expanded in width)
- the uncertainty of going about: one day, there was a bomb (well, a small one. No one pays attention any more. It's like shootings in Washington) in the street parallel to where my dad and I were at. People around us barely paid much attention and kept on doing whatever it was they were doing.
- Pessimism: I'll give an example. One evening, we were around the bonfire when a series of loud blasts were heard. Looking up, we saw (at a distance) bright flashes of light. Both my parents reckoned it was a) bombs, b) shootings, c) the Army taking over power. The next day, my sister and I visited our grand-aunt and found she'd thought the same.*
- the focus on small things: often, daily worries centred around when the lights would be on (4-6 hours/day, different hours each day), what to eat for lunch and dinner and whether there was water in the tank (so one could have a bath).
- not missing knowing what new films were out, who's blogged what, the internet, TV shows, new music and all. Yes, that surprised me too.
* Turns out it was the Chinese embassy celebrating the Chinese New Year.
Cross-posted
Reasons why I miss Kathmandu (not counting family and Dog)
- the momos from down the shop down the street. The best (by far) of six or seven types we tasted and a perfect mix of spices and minced chicken. Ordering an extra box so KiwiSis and I could have fried momos for brekkie the next day.
- muesli. No one else makes good muesli, I realise, after having spent much of my past week's grocery money here trying out variants from Whole Foods, Rodmans and even making my own.
- the bonfires in the evenings. Since there was electricity only one night of every week (and that from 8pm-midnight), we spent most of our evenings outside, around a big fire. The constant tussle among Dad and KiwiSis about how precisely the fire should be set and tended were hilarious as neither would acknowledge the other was right.
- the books (and odds and ends) spread out on pavements that Dad and I fossicked around in.
- the wedding (since it was my first)
- the fried fish at home (using fresh rahu fish) and the fish curry from the "Khaja ghar" (literally: snack house) at the Gairidhara crossroads. I've actually never had fish curry half as good anywhere and one piece was enough for a good meal.
- the verandah at the house: for sitting, reading and spitting orange pips over railings of.
- excellent public transport: especially bus no. 26, which went across two of the towns in the valley and the "Nepal Yatayat" bus which took us directly to grandma's.
- knowing people in the neighbourhood: almost everyone (especially the older folks) knew us, so walking to the bus stop (a 5 minute walk) included responding to people's greetings.
- the juju dhau (scroll down to "eat") and the yak cheese ("exotic and healthy"!). I've had a lot of yoghurts and heaps of cheese(s?) but nothing else compares.
- the trees around the house. Thankfully, they muffle (somewhat) the street noise, which has increased now that there seem to be heaps more vehicles on the streets (and streets haven't expanded in width)
- the uncertainty of going about: one day, there was a bomb (well, a small one. No one pays attention any more. It's like shootings in Washington) in the street parallel to where my dad and I were at. People around us barely paid much attention and kept on doing whatever it was they were doing.
- Pessimism: I'll give an example. One evening, we were around the bonfire when a series of loud blasts were heard. Looking up, we saw (at a distance) bright flashes of light. Both my parents reckoned it was a) bombs, b) shootings, c) the Army taking over power. The next day, my sister and I visited our grand-aunt and found she'd thought the same.*
- the focus on small things: often, daily worries centred around when the lights would be on (4-6 hours/day, different hours each day), what to eat for lunch and dinner and whether there was water in the tank (so one could have a bath).
- not missing knowing what new films were out, who's blogged what, the internet, TV shows, new music and all. Yes, that surprised me too.
* Turns out it was the Chinese embassy celebrating the Chinese New Year.
Cross-posted
5.2.09
Of hermits and valentines
It occurs to me as I sit here and start typing this that I will have little or no reason to blog in the forthcoming weeks. I’ve been back for almost a week and, in those days, apart from grocery-shopping and going to uni, I’ve not exited my room. A conference—the *big* one—in 10 days’ time and two papers to write for it have taken up my time, with the result that I’ve turned into a hermit. One who does bathe more frequently (albeit “just”) than the generic hermit who, being placed in jungles and areas without running water, probably does not have the opportunity to wash as often. But, that is not my point. A few thoughts of the past few days:
- I’ve not yet gotten used to speaking (and writing) in English. This morning, I needed a word (turned out it was “ambiguity” for “methodological ambiguity”) to complete a sentence in my latest paper. I couldn’t think of one. I could think of what I wanted to say but I couldn’t think of the word I wanted. It was incredibly annoying and I wasted a lot of time trying to think of the word. This can't go on for much longer, can it?
- I gained a fair bit of weight while away and both my jeans (yes, I own *two* pairs!) do not fit. The solution would be to buy new pairs but that seems extravagant at a time when I’m only working one job (down from two). The current solution has been to wander around in trackie bottoms (or, "trackie daks" as they were called in my youth).
- Since I hadn’t been sure I’d be back for the Big Conference, I don’t have a place to stay in New York City. It occurred to me that I could ask a mate who has a house there (or an apartment, I’m unclear on this). I IM-d her and, since we’d not met for years, had a bit of a (virtual) backslapping—a good deal of animated what-ho-ing and a rapid picking up of the threads, as Bertie Wooster might have (and did) said. I then asked her if I could stay over for a couple of nights.
The conversation when thus:
o Me: New York City is bloody expensive. Can I stay at yours for a couple of days?
o Mate: of course, no worries! We’d (mate’s acquired a bloke in the period since I saw her last) love to have you stay. When is this for?
o Me: Next weekend.
o Mate: silence. Umm…next weekend? The 14th?
o Me: Maybe we can have dinner when I get in since I’ll be at the conference after?
o Mate: Uh…
o Me: Just tell me where your place is.
o Mate: Sorry—it’s the 14th you are talking about, right?
o Me: Yes.
Mate then knowing me quite well and realizing that this conversation (and hints) could go on forever unless things were clearly specified to me explains what 14 February is. It had totally slipped my mind. Now I need a place to stay for that first night. I guess yous can read all about my (sure to be) dodgy hostel adventures here.
- I’ve not yet gotten used to speaking (and writing) in English. This morning, I needed a word (turned out it was “ambiguity” for “methodological ambiguity”) to complete a sentence in my latest paper. I couldn’t think of one. I could think of what I wanted to say but I couldn’t think of the word I wanted. It was incredibly annoying and I wasted a lot of time trying to think of the word. This can't go on for much longer, can it?
- I gained a fair bit of weight while away and both my jeans (yes, I own *two* pairs!) do not fit. The solution would be to buy new pairs but that seems extravagant at a time when I’m only working one job (down from two). The current solution has been to wander around in trackie bottoms (or, "trackie daks" as they were called in my youth).
- Since I hadn’t been sure I’d be back for the Big Conference, I don’t have a place to stay in New York City. It occurred to me that I could ask a mate who has a house there (or an apartment, I’m unclear on this). I IM-d her and, since we’d not met for years, had a bit of a (virtual) backslapping—a good deal of animated what-ho-ing and a rapid picking up of the threads, as Bertie Wooster might have (and did) said. I then asked her if I could stay over for a couple of nights.
The conversation when thus:
o Me: New York City is bloody expensive. Can I stay at yours for a couple of days?
o Mate: of course, no worries! We’d (mate’s acquired a bloke in the period since I saw her last) love to have you stay. When is this for?
o Me: Next weekend.
o Mate: silence. Umm…next weekend? The 14th?
o Me: Maybe we can have dinner when I get in since I’ll be at the conference after?
o Mate: Uh…
o Me: Just tell me where your place is.
o Mate: Sorry—it’s the 14th you are talking about, right?
o Me: Yes.
Mate then knowing me quite well and realizing that this conversation (and hints) could go on forever unless things were clearly specified to me explains what 14 February is. It had totally slipped my mind. Now I need a place to stay for that first night. I guess yous can read all about my (sure to be) dodgy hostel adventures here.
3.2.09
Fighting the Global war on Terrorism...
...one toy car at a time
Picture taken at a Nepali town, close to the Tibetan border.
Picture taken at a Nepali town, close to the Tibetan border.
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