Monsoon is Come

Three weeks of waiting. It has been driving me bonkers. You may choose to blame my recent irritibility on the sudden lack of living space I have developed since my brtoher moved in. You may choose to blame it on the fact that no one had any work for me until the month before I left. I choose the blame it on the fact that it has been stinking hot, occaisionally overcast but never raining and that monsoon has been pending for 3 weeks.

Well it arrived today and in amazing fashion. 5 minutes prior to me leaving work the heavens opened up with all manner of cats and dogs whining, barking and screeching their way through the sky to come crashing down all around us. It was like a cyclone. Perhaps if you are a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor then you will disagree. I mean, the only experience I had of any of those is that the price of bananas went up to $12/kilo for about 6 months. But this was insane, like nothing you have ever seen (assuming of course that you are not a Tracey, Larry or Katrina survivor). There were no rain drops, just sheets weighing metric f-tonne's and washing everything in sight away.

The brief 2 second dash from the carpark to the front gate through the sheets of cyclone-like rain had myself, Swifty and my bag completely drenched. Quite astutely I decided against riding home, and subjecting Reeta-didi to washing mud slash poo slash whatever other refuse is kicked up off the ground in a storm from my clothes. Plan was to a) find a taxi with a roof rack for my bike or b) the staff bus to get me and Swifty home.

The bus driver, who up unto this point (about 49 weeks into my experience) has done a bang-up job of not being able to speak much English at all, told me that the bus would be going the long way today and that would have to be dropped off last in the best English I have heard this side of the equator. With the other option being a ride through mud and muck, I said I didn't mind.

As the sweat from the heat and the water soaking my clothes started blending and giving me that uncomfortable itchy sensation you always get when you are wet and don't want to be, we started weaving our way along the Ring Road (which BTW looks exactly the same no matter what part of town you are in) and dropping off staff, Swifty up the back like a king on his horse. I watched as we took on tuk-tuks head on on the wrong side of the road along the (predominantly dry) streets. But inside the Ring Road was another story. As started heading north through town the sewers were showing their protest to 8 (dry) months of abuse in the form of trash and other waste matter being shoved down them at any opportunity. I saw motorbikes parked on the side of the road being washed away as the gutters turned from lumps of concrete to white water rapids (except that the water was brown and gross).

People stumbled along with umbrella's useless against the deluge and every man and his spade was out trying to clear gutters and sewers to try and stop the rising water level from entering their shops.

Monsoon is back and it feels exactly like it did when I arrived a year ago.

Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

An introduction to the friendly (or not so friendly) horn in your average developing country.

"Toot!" - Hello, I am acknowledging your presence and just letting you know that I have seen you.  Also, if you have not yet seen me, I am here.

"TootToot" - Hello, I acknowledge your acknowledgement and am thanking you for the courtesy you afforded me.

"TootTootToot" - No worries, how ARE the wife and kids?  Its been so long since little Subas has been to visit.

"BIP!" - Excuse me, I'm coming through.

"BIPbipBIPbipBIPbipBIPbipBIP" - Sorry, my child appears to have taken over control of the steering wheel and is playing with its horn.

"BAAARRRRP!" - You ^*%(^#(* idiot, you're in my way and I almost died trying to miss [hit] you.

"BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRWWWWnnnnnnnnnnnn" - I'M COMING THROUGH THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS AT AN INCREDIBLY FAST SPEED and now i'm gooooooooooooonnnnnnnne"

"DOOTDOODOODLE IDDLYPOP!" [to the tune of A Spoonful of Sugar] - I have too much time on my hands and I have tinkered with my horn (i mean, the one on my my truck) to annoy the living hell out of you!

"DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE-DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE-DIDDLE-IIIIIDLE"  - sorry, I think its stuck.

"FFFFNOOOOOOOOORRRRRRHNNNNNN" - Maybe I can make this traffic jam move faster by blowing my horn.

"NGAK NGAK NGAK NGAK" - look at me I have a horn on my rickshaw that sounds like a DUCK [angry mob] "so, if she weighs more than a duck...she's a witch?  and therefore?  BURN HER!".

"Briiiiiiiing" - I am at the bottom of the food chain and I only have a crappy little bell - ummm... excuse me.

Swifty Surgery Chhahinchha

Life is constantly teaching us lessons. Here are a few of the lessons that Nepal taught me today.

1. Mondays are bad days. If you ever wake up and wish you had stayed in bed, then you probalby should have. Your gut instinct is more powerful that you can possibly imagine
2. No shortcuts through unknown suburbs during load shedding. Its dark and unnerving, not to mention you don't know where you are.
3. Never ever believe that you are good enough to leave home without your compass. OK, you have survived 5 months and haven't used it for the last 3, you're special. We get it. Just remember that you will need that compass when you least expect it.
4. No talking on the phone while shortcutting through unknown suburbs during load shedding without a compass. Not only do you have the issues posed by lessopn number 2, but YOU STILL CAN'T SEE ANYTHING, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE and now you only have one hand. Let me just ask one thing "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
5. If you are going to be hit by a motorbike that is also not going to stop to check that you are OK, then make sure you drop your shoulder and give him everything you have got. Make sure he hits the dirt hard. Then, just as he is starting to come around, smack him in the face, then slash his tyres and then kick him in the nads.

That's right team. Swifty needs surgery.


It's a shame actually that an event such as this is what prompts me to realise Swifty did not have a name until now. He needs surgery because he was wiped out by a motorbike with me on top of him. Yes, it was bound to happen, and I know you were all waiting for the event to eclipse the Great Assassination Attempt of January 2005, the Ice Skating Eyebrow Gashing of 1999, the Holy Potato Someone Just Snapped the Back Half of the Car Accident of 2000 (I wasn't driving) and the Big Bastard Pothole Incident of 2006. Today may not have been it, but it was a sight to behold. Had I shown this much prowess during the Ice Skating Eybrow Gashing, then perhaps there would have been more gobsmacked crowd amazement and applause, not to mention less gashing.

It was a T intersection. To be perfectly honest, if you were to call it how it really is, it's a Y intersection. I was going from the straight part into the right branch. A car was going from the right branch to the straight bit. From behind him this motorbike came screaming across my path to go from the right branch to the left branch. We both hit the brakes hard but I knew that we were gonna hit.



Pondering seriously just how much it might hurt this time I was amazed to almost instantaneously find myself standing on one leg with the other somewhere in the air doing a rather awkward kind of half-bicycle mounted pirouette. Swifty's front end sort of flew upwards and (probably) over the motorbike rider and his passenger's head. My leg and the bike came back down to earth and I barely had enough time to realise that I was OK before Old Mate sped off into the distance.


Rather indignant, and not entirely believing that I was really actually 100% OK, and that the most damage to my bike was the front rim and brakes (and maybe a slightly mangled chain) I managed to fire off a swear word or two at him before another passing motorbike rider checked to see that I didn't need any help. I actually really felt for that guy, because he wanted to help me out but I was totally fine.


Let's write down number 6 too. Everything you walk away from is a character building experience!

A Horn and a Prayer

This city manages to work through a kind of organised chaos that, as far as I am aware, is probably limited to Asian countries. Having never been to South America, Africa or even a double numbered percentage of the countries I havent yet visited in Europe, this is probably a stupid thing to say.

But the reason is not strictly limited to traffic, although that is certainly the most obvious chaos going around. Let me tell you for a moment about the traffic. Lanes exist, on the large part simply so people can ignore them. Tell me, how can you have organised choas if everyone follows the rules? Technically, one drives on the left. I know this mut be true, because all the cars are right hand drive.

As far as the lanes go, i believe they must exist in order for there to be a rule, in order for there to be exceptions to the rule. For example, its ok for you to drive on the right, if your horn is louder than everyone else's, you are dodging somone, or you are dodging someone that is dodging someone.

In another example, it is ok for you to go around a roundabout anticlockwise if you go really relly slowly and can't see anything coming the other way. Once again, the concept of a one way street exists, but only so bicycles and motorbikes can go the wrong way.

Night-time is another amazement, where there are no street lights. Even if there are street lights they are not switched on, and even if they were switched on there would likely be no power on the grid to light them up. Street lights appear to be yet another wasteful western extravagance. As there are no street lights, walking down the street at night is a brand new experience. Outlines of people are as much as one can expect, and you can see only the smoggy haze dangling in the air, murkily lit by the passing motorbikes and occaisionaly the undersized taxi.

As you could expect, intersections have a whole new level of excitement allocated to them that you will not be able to experience in Australia. Due to the power being out, the decision not to switch them on or simply the exception to the rule being that they are at best ignored, means that any time after 7pm all you need is a horn and a prayer. Just gun your bike, blast the horn and shut your eyes. I'm sure there is a mathematical equation you can apply to let you know whether you will make it out the other side or not, but I think it's way complicate for my simple mind. There are definitely too many variables. Although an African swallow doesn't enter the equation, flying bird poo, wandering dogs (cucures), cattle and your ignorant tourists pose dangers to ongoing life. Like I said, what you really need is a horn and a prayer.

I have almost covered everything but the "buses". I shouldn't forget the buses because there was recently a strike declared [more on strikes later] by the students on public transport. Without going into too much detail, the students were unhappy because the buses are refusing to give them their 45% discount.

There are real buses, but these don't really operate inside the confines of the city. What I am referring to here are the minivans, designed to hold 10 people that don't really run if there aren't 20-30 in them. Mikey's volkswagon full of hockey players be damned, that has nothing on this. The door generally remains open, with a young man shouting out the route of the bus (which may change from day to day. He says them very fast, so you need to be switched on to know where you are going. I havent yet enjoyed the adventure, but I am sure it will happen sooner rather than later, and involve some man-to-man touching [once again, more on cultural experience later] and constant supervision of my wallet.

There was one armed police bus (you can tell them from their distinctive blue camo gear) that went screaming past with the sirens blaring. As the door was open, I was able to see inside to notice that they were lounged around on the inside as if sitting on the couch watching the telly. Very entertaining.

Stay tuned for details on the strikes and petrol crisis (you think you have it bad!).