Monsoon season

It poured rain all night and I got up to no running water inside (though I could still hear it beating down outside) and still no internet. I didn’t realize how addictive the internet is, especially when you can’t just call up your family or friends.

It was still pouring when I headed for CMF, but I had learned how to turn on the water pump when it goes off and Rajendra had booted the office router so we were able to access the internet. I found a response to my forum query suggesting that we upgrade to 3.6.1 because it was more stable than 3.6.0.

My puny umbrella was next to useless so I was quite wet by the time I got to CMF. Their internet was down as well so I couldn’t follow up on the response about our indexing problem. To be on the safe side, I decided to exercise my alternate option of storing all the documents in an organized directory structure that I can set up for sharing. Ruchi and I spent the rest of the day making sure that all the documents that we had loaded into Knowledgetree so far were replicated in the alternate directory structure.

Once we were finished, I asked her to carry on collecting documents on the pin drive and I would head back to CECI to download the newer version of the software and install it. Downloading ended up taking about three hours.

Meanwhile I had heard from Luni Bista (her brother-in-law, Ajoy, in Canada had sent a parcel for his mother) inviting me to come to her place for dinner. The rain had stopped by then so I headed out to try to find Jawalakhel – in the southern part of the city near Patan. I ran into Bernie so invited him along. Our taxi driver wasn’t sure where to go, but after checking with a policeman he headed out. This time of day traffic is fierce, but the strike was settled so the buses were also back on the road. There seemed to be some military action as well because some streets were blocked off with long lines of military and we ended up going a round-about route. It took over an hour, but we were dropped off near the bakery where Luni requested we meet and she easily picked me out in the crowd.

She led us a couple of blocks then down a muddy alley to an area of lovely big homes surrounding an ancient brick Newari-style house with the typical wooden shuttered windows. Luni said that the old house was the original and when the family grew too big, the surrounding land was parcelled out to the sons who then built the big homes all around. She then led us into her courtyard and up the steps to the second level, past the little white spitz-like dog who seemed to take a liking to me. We were settled into a little sitting room where her son Ashram (I think that was his name) who would be around thirteen joined us. He is a really sweet boy who helped his mom with the host duties and translated for the grandmother when she also joined us. We were presented with a pile of photo albums that traced the history of the young family – Luni, her husband (Ajoy’s older brother) and their son. The wedding pictures were fascinating, with all the finery and Hindu traditions. Ajoy’s brother is in the military and has done a number of stints with the UN. His pictures of Somalia, Sierra Leone and Liberia were fascinating.

Ajoy’s mother was a lively little woman who welcomed us warmly. If we could have spoken the same language I know we would have been chatting up a storm.

We were then fed probably the best Nepali meal I have eaten since arriving. According to their traditions, Luni and the grandmother did not eat with us but Ashram did. The grandmother brought in a pickle that had been in the brine for months. It was delicious and set off the flavours of the Dal Bhat perfectly. After the main meal, we were brought tea and dessert. The dessert was another Nepali dish which, I’m afraid, I’ve lost the name for, but was wonderful as well.

By then the rain had begun again and I remembered that I had come away without my umbrella. Luni and Ashram walked us to our taxi after we had a session of pictures. Grandmother stood beside me and we laughed at how short she was compared to me.

Back at CECI I sloshed my way through ankle-deep puddles to our door. I hope my shoes survive this. I was totally drenched by the time I made it to my room.

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