National Museum

I finally made it to the national museum. And it was almost worth it. Being critical it is another missed opportunity at encouraging tourists to spend money. There was no guide to purchase and no real shop. There was also very little information (cards frequently provided unhelpful details such as “Some crystal works 20th century”) and an eclectic array of artifacts. Including many which didn’t seem to have any relevance to Nepal.


We started off in the doll collection with cabinet after cabinet of dolls representing different countries. There was no standard doll so I came to the conclusion that each country had donated dolls representing itself. The dolls themselves were generally grubby and thick with dust, mothballs were scattered around. And there did not appear to be any logical sequence to the countries. Pakistan and Sri Lanka were buffered in one section by Israel.


Then followed several life-size tableaux of daily life in Nepal, finishing off with a nice cave-man scene. Although I couldn’t say whether prehistoric man has ever been found here.


The stuffed animals were an absolute gem with birds at quirky angles falling off branches save for their stapled claws. The skin of a buffalo’s two-headed calf was also priceless, one fetlock having broken free from it’s pins and dangling uncomfortably in the air. There was also the mandibular bones of a whale. Featured in the national collection of a land-locked country.


The rest of the museum was less interesting; armoury, stamps, coins, metal work and woodwork. But I did see a fascinating device called an Electric Gun. This seemed to be a rifle suspended within a large contraption (possibly the recharger). I didn’t see how it would be any use in a combat situation. Especially in a country with very little power (up to 12 hours a day of no electricity now and still counting).


I may have had my fill of Nepali museums now.

Momo Magic

Cooking Dahl Bhat

A couple of weeks ago V, N, K, J and I went for a cooking course near the Bouddha stupa. It took place in a German hotel that J had stayed in. We were joined by two other volunteers and spent the morning making an array of Nepali staples: tomato, sesame and cucumber pickles’, momo’s, barra (a lentil flour pancake), chiya and the obligatory dahl bhat. The down side of this is that we were exposed to the outrageous levels of oil and salt used in Nepali cooking. The rules of thumb appeared to be that you could never get enough of either of these ingredients and if in doubt, add more oil or salt. We were regularly reprimanded for our judicious use of salt with more being thrown into our dishes regardless. The amount of ginger and garlic we got through was also phenomenal but this can only be a good thing.

After the lesson we sat outside to taste our efforts which were pretty good, even if our momo’s did break away from the traditional form. The photo above shows the momo’s ready for steaming. I’ll endeavor to hold a few Nepali dinner’s when I get back.
NB Momo Magic is also the name of my favourite momo restaurant in Kathmandu.

This is Holi

So Holi was much as anticipated and I got very colourful. I decided to go to Gorkha for the weekend to check out the palace. I am trying to visit a few more places before my parents get here in case there are some hidden gems that I need to show them. Gorkha may well be one of them but the hideous bus journey, 1500 steps to get up there and the fact that we can’t set foot inside it (as non-Hindu’s) may just rule it off the list.

I arrived late on Saturday and was pretty glad I did as I had finished my book on the way and had no other form of entertainment. I went out looking for something to read but was thwarted by the lack of a bookshop. I did get a copy of the Kathmandu Post and out of desperation also bought the January 17th edition that was yellowing in the window (for which I was charged full price!).

In the morning (of Holi) I set off early to reach the palace at the top of the hill. I had read about the steps and assumed that once I hit the trail I would be on my own. Unfortunately (today at least) there are shops and homes all the way to the top which meant that I felt like I was running a gauntlet as children shot water pistols and threw water balloons at me. Luckily the little ones were a really poor aim and I got away lightly. The other line of attack is to rush up and put dye over my face. I didn’t really mind this and knelt down so they could reach me. It was on my way back through the main village when the attention and dye got a bit much for me. Older boys, well into their twenties (one man politely asked to cover me in dye and then struck up a conversation telling me he was a police man!), roamed in gangs and rushed me rubbing their hands all over my face. It was a bit intimidating and I was really glad to get back on the bus. Though for the whole drive home we were doused in water every time we stopped to let in more passengers.