Borderlands and Belsen

Borderlands turned out to be an even bigger adventure than Pokhara. And not necessarily in a good way. 

Our lovely friend who had arranged the trip assured us that the resort was a mere ninety minutes drive from Kathmandu. We left straight after picking up Son from school at two thirty, and arrived at seven in the evening - you do the maths... partly this was down to several landslides on the road, but also down to her telling us a big fat porky pie.

Anyway, we arrived eventually. Borderlands is very loud, with a river crashing through the canyon on one side and a jungle full of noisy cicadas (or something) on the other, which was good, as it meant we could barely hear the kids whingeing that they were hungry (we normally eat around five). We went to bed straight after supper, lulled to sleep by the roar of the river/cicadas (what are cicadas anyway? are they just big grasshoppers?)/Hubby and Twin 2 coughing up quantities of gunk (they both still have pretend TB). 

The next day everyone else at the resort went canyoning/hiking but we opted for the sit-on-the-grass-and-drink-pretend-cups-of-tea-served-by-Barbie option. Hubby got leeched (which he deserved, being the only one who avoided leeches at Kakani the other week) and I periodically exhorted Twin 2 to try to do her wees and poos on the potty, with limited success. Son went on a massive bug hunt, and in fact returned from the trip with a praying mantis, two grasshoppers, a spider, a moth and a caterpillar. All sadly now dead (we have renamed his insect house 'Belsen'). Actually had quite a pleasant time hanging out in the sunshine for a day and a half. 

It wasn't until it was time to go that things took a turn for the worse.

We decided to leave immediately after lunch on the Sunday, so that we'd be back in time for Twin 2's physiotherapy session. We got as far as the top of the track heading out of the resort when the Land Rover suddenly lost power, so Hubby roll-reversed it back to the campsite. It wasn't long before there was a big gang of Nepali chaps trying to help Hubby to start the car. Realising that it could be some time, Twins and I lay down on a rug under a tree for a nap, and Son went of to catch more bugs. 

Some two hours later, the car finally started again, to whoops of joy all round. 

How happy we were as we jolted over landslides and around precipitous hairpin bends (have come to the conclusion that probably all the roads outside the Kathmandu valley are like this).

We had just been remarking smugly how lucky we were to have broken down so close to the resort, and how much harder it would have been if we'd been halfway to Kathmandu, when the car gave up again. 

This time we managed to bump start it, as we were on a hill, so it only needed a bit of a nudge.

I remembered someone saying that bad things always come in threes.

So, I said to Hubby, if we break down, what happens? He had just finished reassuring me that someone would send mechanics out from camp to fix the car/take us home, when there was yet another depressing silence from under the bonnet.

Handily enough we came to a halt in a village, near a shop with a phone.

And it only took a mere seven hours for the mechanics to make it out from Kathmandu.

During which time the entire village turned out to come and point and giggle at the blonde twins, blond brother and slightly harassed-looking parents.

We were a little late to school on Monday morning.

Then Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday the school has had yet another holiday - Teehar (which is the same as Diwali, I think). 

However, this time we decided not to attempt any more holiday trips. We took the car out once, yesterday, to go to the Supermarket to buy crisps and biscuits (can't cope when our cook is on holiday) and that's it. 

Hubby is back in the UK next week, and the car is going into the garage, and I'm going no further than school. In a taxi.

ps - Oh, forgot to tell you about the wishing well. Last place we went there was a wishing well, and all the children got to throw in a coin and make a wish.

Son asked for the environment to be protected and everyone in the world to be happy; Twin 2 said she wanted to be Cinderella; Twin 1 wished for a white chicken.

I hope Father Christmas was listening!

coughs, poos and competitive sports, mainly

So today I will mostly be writing about coughs, poos and competitive sports. Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote. This has been in the main down to coughs and poos, but also downright laziness. 

Hubby still has pseudo-TB. Our nice doctor offered him antibiotics, but he declined, deciding to fight off the infection himself. All very brave and macho, but we have to listen to him hawking like old Steptoe all night. Twin 2 also still has cough. Our housekeeper says we should stop letting her drink cold water, and that will cure it (not sure which medical establishment she trained at?). She also says we need to be careful of walking in bare feet on cold floors as that will give us diohrea (sorry, never can spell it). She may have a point, as I have been struck down with the runs yet again, although the doctor seems to think it's more likely to be down to Guardia than chilly marble flooring. 

Anyway, I'm on a diet of bananas and Dioralyte and antibiotics today, in the hope that I can recover enough for our weekend camping trip to Borderlands. All I know about Borderlands is that it's up near the Tibetan border and that we'll be in a tented camp near a river. I think there are exciting things like kayaking and bungee jumping on offer, but I suspect I will spend quite a lot of time pretending to be a baddie (Twin 1 told me this morning that all grown ups are baddies, so I don't have much choice) and being chased by space heroes, or pretending to be interested when someone points out a leaf that looks like an elephant, or something equally fascinating. I'm going to take a book in the vague hope that I might be able to lounge around a bit, but given our recent experience of family holidays, I'm not expecting to actually read more than a couple of sentences before someone needs a wet wipe/nappy change/air ambulance (don't think these exist in Nepal - best not to dwell on possible health and safety issues of camping in a remote spot in a developing country with small children, probably). So long as my bottom stops exploding I'm quite looking forward to it.

Ah yes, competitive sports, that was the other thing...

Took the Twins to a birthday party on Sunday. Hubby and Son stayed at home with (TB and tummy bug respectively) and watched Thunderbirds. It was a glorious day, the party house was on the edge of Kathmandu with a huge rambling garden and views of the mountains. The lawn was scattered with three and four year old girls in floaty dresses, happily running around pretending to be fairies/princesses/space heroes and mums were chatting over glasses of homemade lemonade. Idyllic. 

Then the dad came along to take charge of the party games. He was a nice chap, but for some reason insisted that the games should be: 

a. physically demanding

b. highly competitive   and

c. have only one winner

Now, Twin 1, despite her diminutive stature, is pretty speedy and competant, but even she tired of the relentless haranguing to jump further or run faster. And for Twin 2, as you know, running, jumping and hopping are simply physical impossibilities. I tried to keep a happy face on, whilst inwardly shouting 'What is wrong with pass the parcel and musical bumps, for God's sake?!'. 

Of course the four-year olds nabbed all the prizes and Twins got nothing.

The next party we have at our house we are going to hire an elephant and eat lots of crisps and chocolate. 

And anyone who mentions a relay race will be summarily executed. 

TB and chickpeas

Hubby is languishing in bed beside me and it's only about half past eight here. He thinks he has TB - which may be true, given the amount of hawking and gobbing that goes on in the streets here - but he may just have Twin 1's cough, which she infected us all with in Pokhara (except for Son, who has the immune system of a crocodile ie. has evolved out of catching infections). 

Anyway, now the Monsoon is over it's a bit chilly once the sun's gone down in our big old marble edifice, so bed is the best place to be after about seven o'clock. We were in bed at a similar time last night (and not because of any pre-planned rumpy-pumpy, just because we are a bit useless). Already I'm dreading the winter and planning a big trip to the cashmere shop when the next pay cheque comes in.

Our driver has gone and broken his leg. Not sure how. Maybe it was in desperation at the thought of having to come back to work for us after his Deshain break, in the way that - rumour has it - some squaddies do when faced with yet another operational tour (actually in a previous posting the next door neighbour's daughter's boyfriend broke his arm deliberately so he wouldn't have to go away on exercise, and he ended up being sent to military prison. I did wonder whether throwing yourself down some concrete stairs and then spending a couple of months in jail was really worth it for the sake of avoiding spending three weeks away from your girlfriend...is that the price of true love? I believe they are married now, so maybe it is). I'm not entirely sure how he broke it, or even if it is broken or this is just a big ruse as he can't face the return to the school run (not sure I can either, but equally can't face hurling myself off the balcony to avoid it; do you think a small cut on the finger would get me out of early morning duties for a few weeks?) Anyway, he sent a friend along to drive for us whilst he is off with his leg in plaster. The new chap seems very nice, but nevertheless, I had no references or anything, but needs must and all that, so let him drive me and the kids and another family out for the day today. Luckily he turned out to be neither a car thief nor a psychopath.

We went to Boudha, which is a massive Buddhist stupa (big white dome thing) on the other side of town. Aside from Twin 2 deciding to have an imaginary poo in the middle of the street, and Son pretending the prayer wheels were spaceships - oh, and Twin 1 doing a real poo in the middle of the cafe - it all went quite well. 

When we got home (with all our limbs intact and without the car being sold on to be used in a heist), Sunil the tailor turned up with a half-made cocktail dress for me. Turns out he hadn't been abducted by aliens after all - which I assumed could be the only excuse for him suddenly disappearing off the planet since our last meeting when I tasked him with making a couple of dresses for me - he was just on his Deshain break (for four weeks!). He said he probably wouldn't finish the dress until after Teehar - the next lengthy public holiday, due in about ten days time. I think he must be over-charging if he can afford to have so many holidays. Either that or he's using his at-home dressmaking service as a cover for drug delivery and doesn't really give a stuff about my cocktail dresses.  Still, at least he's honest about not really wanting much work at the moment (he declined to make me three skirts), and not claiming injuries in order to avoid contact with the flaky woman with her manic son and evil twin daughters, which I suspect might be the case with Bishu Ram, our 'medically downgraded' driver.

By the time Hubby came home, Son was zoned in on a DVD, Twins were dancing to 'Barbie Girl' and I was looking for thermal pajamas on ebay. We were all so engrossed we had almost forgotten about supper time. Meena had promised to surprise us with something...and the surprise was...chickpeas and potatoes (mmmm, yummy, just the kind of thing the kids love - erm, not). When I commented that the spicy thing with chickpeas was a bit dry, Hubby said, "Yes, but chickpeas are always like that", as if he's an expert on chickpea cuisine. I don't think he's even eaten one before this evening. He's just on a love-in with Meena because she made him some homemade onion soup at lunchtime whilst we were out. And carrot cake. And what do I get? Chickpea and potato surprise...If I wasn't around they would probably have some kind of wierd gastronomic love affair, involving devilled kidneys and fishnet stockings. 

Doesn't bear thinking about.

five go on a big adventure

We have just had our first family holiday. Hubby has now passed out on the sofa and Son & Twins are allowed unlimited DVDs until further notice. I have lost my voice and also have a chapped nose and a nice bout of Himalayan tummy. It is extremely good to be home.

We've just had Deshain here in Nepal, which is kind of the equivalent of Christmas, so everyone has been off visiting relatives and having parties all week. Our housekeeper pretty much ordered us to go on holiday for a week so she could have a bit of time off, so we decided to drive to Pokhara for the week.

Pokhara is the closest you can get to a seaside resort in Nepal. It's next to a lake, at least. Lots of people use it as a base for trekking, but we decided to forgo the dubious pleasure of trekking with three young children, one of whom has cerebral palsy (although I know lots of parents from school who did decide on that option, which I think is very brave) in favour of some low key sight-seeing. 

It's a six-hour drive to Pokhara. I couldn't face six hours of 'But when are we allowed another sweetie?' and 'Mummy my poo is coming right now', so we elected to overnight at the glorious Riverside Springs Resort, which was bigged up in the Lonely Planet. Of course, what I subsequently remembered was that the Lonely Planet guide is written by and for back packers. I can quite understand that if you have spent the last six months in smelly hostels in India, and have dreadlocks and a beard (both sexes) then the Riverside Springs might seem the height of luxury. But actually it's a bit decrepit and damp, and staffed entirely by Dinesh (our hapless ex-driver)'s less intelligent country cousins. Great pool though.

Then it was on to Pokhara, where we'd booked into the hotel that the army people stay in when they are there, so it was very business-y, but had lots of facilities that we anticipated using when the children were asleep. I had visions of us taking it in turn to go the the gym/health farm/pool whilst the kids happily snoozed. In my dreams. By eight o'clock each evening we were so exhausted that the most activity we could muster was eating chocolate in bed whilst watching Indian MTV.

Pokhara is a bit like Weymouth, but with cows in the road. There are lots of cafes, all of which, happily, serve pizza and chips (kids staple diet for the week). We kept bumping into the very nice postie sergeant from camp and his lovely American girlfriend. They kept feigning surprise and delight as we pitched up at their romantic meals, and inviting us to join them. The girlfriend even pronounced the Twins 'really cute', which proves she was pretending.

There are several things to see and do in and around Pokhara, even if you're not trekking. This Deshain, we discovered, there was an additional attraction: the three-year-old white twins. 

By the end of the week, the girls were learning what it's like to be papped, after being chased, filmed and flashed by a variety of Japanese, Nepali and Indian tourists. One Buddhist monk pounced on Twin 2, kissed her, and showered her in sweets. She took it well. She does a better job of the whole celeb white girl thing than her sister, and tends to just stick her hands up in the air, grin, and tell them her name's Cinderella. Twin 1 just looks huffy and makes a run for it. At one point we got accosted by the lake side and were filmed en famille for a full five minutes. There was no escape, other than diving into Lake Fewa and heading for the far shore, and as three of the five were non-swimmers, this wasn't an option, so we just grizzed it out. I was made to put my arm round some random Nepali woman, and her husband kept exhorting me to move closer. I never found out her name. Or anyone else's, for that matter. Still, they have footage of our entire family grimacing and looking uncomfortably English for their home video.

Glad someone has, as we forgot to take our camcorder - not that we would have had the spare hands to use it in any case.

I suppose the high point (low point, really) of the week was the trip to the bat cave, but I'm still too traumatised by it to write about it. Lets just say that going pot-holing with three small children, one of whom has balance and mobility problems, with a twenty-year-old guide, whose confidence outstrips her life experience or understanding of English, down a wet cave, with no safety equipment, wearing flip-flops, in a region with limited medical facilities, is a really really stupid idea... 

bikes, wives and leeches

I'm so sorry. The internet connection stopped working, so I haven't written or emailed or anything for ages (although have saved a small fortune by being temporarily unable to access ebay), so you have missed my getting food poisoning from the Commander's supper party, being attacked by leeches in the hills, Twin 2s toenail falling off, and scandal amongst the wives. So much can happen in a mere ten days! 

However, the strangest thing of all was seeing a man masturbating whilst riding a bicycle. 

I know this seems unfeasible, not to mention unhealthy, but I saw it with my own eyes (and wish I hadn't, in fact). One can only admire the man's balance and dexterity, and total lack of shame.

I saw this on the way to the monthly partner's club coffee morning, to which I almost didn't go (I'm not sure whether it's the bingo or the samosas that make me feel more nervous), but I did as I had promised to meet someone there so we could go for lunch afterwards. Anyway, I'm glad I did as I arrived in time for a bit of drama. The Commander's wife was stood up, telling the seated circle of partners (all wives, with the exception of one nonplussed looking husband) about a 'bad patch' the partners' club has just been through, and exhorting us all just to 'be nice, and be friends' and explaining that the last week had been a bit like a volcanic eruption amongst the club, and now it was time for the lava to cool... this quite lengthy speech ended with her thanking the club's chairperson for all her hard work and attempting to give her a bunch of flowers. Before she could do so, the now ex-chair ran from the room, hastily pursued by the Commander's wife. There was the sound of scuffling outside. The Commander's wife returned a few minutes later, minus the ex-chairperson, and the bunch of flowers was left abandoned on the coffee table. For a minute or so, nobody spoke, but then everyone remembered it was time to do the bingo.

Turns out that there's been a massive old hoo-har with the partners' club over the last ten days about one thing and another (most of which I've been blissfully ignorant of), which has culminated in the resignation of the chairperson. What scandal! I'm really quite glad I refused to be part of the club's committee when I was given the option, as it seems I have saved myself all kinds of tears, bitterness and recrimination etc. Still, it's been the talk of camp all week, apparently (Hubby has no interest in gossip so is a fairly useless source of information).

Now my advice to all those wives involved (should they ever seek it) would be to get out a bit more. Maybe if they did they would happen across (I was going to write 'come across' there, but it seemed a bit inappropriate) the masturbating cyclist. And it would give them all something else to think about.