‘It’s our bible,’ Debbie from Dubai said, ‘Trip Advisor is how we choose all our hotels.’

Over the last five years the Hyatt Kathmandu, a five star megalopolis with three hundred rooms, has gathered one hundred and twenty-eight reviews on Trip Advisor. Since March 2008 the Hotel Courtyard in the tourist ghetto of Thamel has garnered one hundred and eleven glowing reviews, pushing it to the top of the list. For a humble establishment with just eighteen rooms that many reviews is a suspicious amount of praise in a very short time. Either a hospitality phenomenon is going on – or someone is cooking the books.

www.tripadvisor.in/Hotel_Review-g293890-d797710-Reviews-Hotel_Courtyard-Kathmandu.html

In a ridiculous David and Goliath struggle, the two establishments battle it out for the top spot: the coveted No. 1 Hotel in Kathmandu - sometimes the princess gets the crown, sometimes the pretender.

In the wonderful world of Trip Advisor, the fact that they are utterly different in every way is unimportant – it’s all about the numbers. As Dogster represents every known minority, he chose the pretender.

www.hotelcourtyard.com

Actually, he just wanted to see whether those one hundred and eleven glowing reviews were true.

Settling in for a good story...

Hotel Courtyard is a very eccentric hotel hidden in Thamel. It’s almost a tourist attraction. If it’s right for you, you’ll know on arrival and forgive all the rest – but if you expect anything faintly resembling five-stars - it ain’t your cup of chai. I could tell you about the rooms – but that isn’t the point. Go look at the pictures. By the time you’ve even made it into one the magic wand will have been waved over your head - even if the floor falls out from under you, you won’t complain.

Check-in can be a lengthy process – some guests cheerfully report gaps of several hours between arrival at the hotel and appearance in their room. One of them was a Mr. Dogster. He arrived at two p.m., made it into his room by six, went out at seven-thirty and finally got back at midnight – already seduced by beer, dinner and conversation with his newest, best-est, instant friends.

The owners have realized the simplest of simple things: travelers like to talk. Our sophisticated western culture has removed the mechanism to meet. All we want is permission, a host, an introduction, a location and the occasion.

Backpackers share hovels and gossip with great simplicity – yet up-market you struggle to meet a soul. Mid-market there’s an interesting crowd that is attracted to the idea of chatting with like-minded strangers in Kathmandu. I had good luck. My fellow guests were flawed, but they were fabulous.

The clientele seemed largely female, fearless, highly intelligent, articulate and fun. There were more solo travelers than couples; in my six days I counted twenty-two visible singles, four pairs and one silent family. Of the singles only six were actually traveling to see Nepal. Fifteen of them were ‘good works fairies’; research workers, advisors-to-be, PHD students, incoming volunteers or their ‘facilitators’. The compassion industry has come to Nepal.

The women of the Courtyard in January 2010 were a formidable alien breed – although from which planet I was never really sure. Wherever it was, it was a long, long way away from here. All were so focused on their ‘projects’ they barely noticed they were in Kathmandu.

Neither, for my stay at the Courtyard, did I.

who let the dog out?

I've been waiting for this tail!

More tomorrow.

I'll see if anybody's reading first - you know what a sook I am. I need constant reassurance.

It's bloody cold in Kathmandu.

we're reading, we're reading!!!!!

I'm reading and waiting for more.

Ruff, ruff. Keep it coming.

I got a box of dog biscuts if you continue this tail

‘Meryl Steep or Kate Winslett?’

We were discussing who would play her in the upcoming movie.

Margaret was a marvelous killer-babe from London, a barrister, an enthusiast, political-insider, innovator, wild ideas woman with connections everywhere. I liked her enormously.

Quite what strange force dropped her and her team into the middle of Kathmandu is still a bit of a mystery to me. She spent a lot of time enthusing about some Nepal-enhancing scheme, a God-given technique that aimed to build the leaders of the future, corrupt them on the way up the ladder then exploit them at the top. The elixir of success? Debating skills.

‘It doesn’t matter, as long as they’re poor,’ she snorted, waving a bejeweled wrist vacantly over the table, ‘poor and smart.’

In a deliciously candid pitch of the pitch, she regaled me with the raison d’etre for her sudden, energetic arrival in the library of the Hotel Courtyard. That none of it made any sense at all was beside the point. She could sell sand to a beach.

‘It’s not the debating… it’s the top one or two percent. They go on to be the members of parliament, prime ministers…’

That she was talking about the U.K. was of no importance at all. Margaret believed with all her mouth that Nepal would be exactly the same.

‘We only want the best of the worst; kids from the most destitute of the poorest rural areas of Nepal. We can transform lives!’

She was brilliant. She could pitch like a Yankee, hurtling spit-balls of wisdom, candor and enthusiasm into the crowd with wild energy. Of course these days, in the time-starved days of Very Important People, a great pitch and a personality are all you need. I was getting a one-on-one demonstration of hers. The barrage left me greatly enthused.

It was a great show, right down to the tremble in the voice, the clasp to the breast, the life-changing moment, the ‘I gave it all up to do this’. To all intents and purposes, judging from the names she dropped, everybody from the Pope to David Beckham supported this luvvie-friendly, good works enterprise. No wonder. She was like a pinball machine on speed, endlessly pinging your P.C. buttons, lighting the light in your dumb punter eyes.

Having exhausted the condescension, she cut to the chase.

‘I’ve been negotiating the screen rights,’ she stage-whispered, ‘it’ll be ‘Sherpa Slumdog’ meets ‘My Fair Lady!’

Was she serious? Things were very intense. Conversation raged around us as if we were in some SoHo loft, everybody was showing off, wild and wonderful tangents led us both on and off track. Some people were drunk.

‘…And the book rights,’ she was saying, ‘the merchandising, the musical - it’s all ready to go.’

What did this have to do with Nepali debating? Was I in an episode of ‘Absolutely Fabulous’?

‘Meryl Steep or Kate Winslett?’

It had to be Meryl.

Of course, Kate will get the job.

The lady with the fly-away hair sat in the corner looking slightly bewildered. Auntie Esme had slogged twelve hours by bus to get to Kathmandu from a tiny village that starts with ‘B’, somewhere south in the borderlands. Within ten minutes of arrival, she was propped up by cushions, sitting back on a red velvet sofa with a beer in her hand, having her first conversation in English for months. She had the sweet reticence of someone who had just spent a long, long time alone.

Oh, and a broad, enigmatic smile.

She wasn’t a handsome woman, nor had she ever been a pretty girl – but to my eyes she was the most beautiful thing in Nepal. She had what we used to call ‘horsey’ features – with time her face had collapsed in an innocent crinkle, illuminated by kind, easily hurt eyes. Shy, sensitive and self-effacing, she’d moved into retirement without remembering to collect a life for herself on the way. Aunty Esme still had a lot of love left and no one to give it to.

So she became a volunteer in Nepal. Aunty was at the coal-face – as uncomfortable, as cold and isolated as a human being could be, volunteering for a cause that still escapes me in a village that didn’t want her there.

Her martyrdom appeared to be for the stolen circus orphans of Southern Nepal. Child life in Nepal, particularly female, runs cheap these days. You can buy a child – from her father - for 1,200 rupees. Bought or spirited away for a life of trapeze and sin, these utterly naïve children are used up and discarded. Preventing children being stolen for the circus was a noble cause, but to my eyes, kinda specific. However it works, it’s all achieved with mosaics.

‘I don’t go out very much,’ she whispered, ‘everybody stares…’

‘How long have you been there?’

‘Four months…’

Room 406, three a.m. Dogster’s bladder demands attention. I reach for the light - nothing. The heater is cold. It’s freezing. Power cut – there seems to be a regular one between two and eight a.m. Decide now, Dog – bladder or warmth, warmth or death – go-o-o-o bladder!

Out of the burrow. I heave the doona off me and sit on the edge of the bed, head still swimming from Everest Beer. It’s colder than death and pitch black. I get up and walk directly into the wall. I feel along, along and find the light switches.

Click, click - nothing, nothing; click, click, click - nothing, nothing, black nuttin’. I’m lost. Fumble left and find the door. No, don’t go there, that’s the corridor. Go left, bathroom is left. Like a blind mime negotiating a plate-glass window, Dogster ventured forth.

A blast of frigid air yawned at me from the bathroom. The tiles are like ice. Freezing. Complete blackness. I can not see my hand in front of my face. Bladder. Bladder. Bladder. Where is the bloody toilet? Bladder. Bladder. Bladder – right now!

Alice was in her Wonderland.

‘I’m here from C****** University to co-ordinate and lead a Multi-task force starter group to advise on Marketing and Manufacturing techniques on the bio-fuel industry and feeder production in the Nowheri region of Nepal,’ she blurted, thrusting a leaflet at me.

Well, something like that.

Alice was reciting the grant application, a gobbly-gook of politically correct catch-phrases rattled off in rapid succession - whatever it all meant she believed in it with all her heart. She rolled on with her spiel, an enthusiastic academic finally in the field, brimming with emotion.

It turned out to be a marketing plan for a community-run, equal-opportunity, village-based hand-made paper ‘factory’ run by a lesbian dwarf.

Well, something like that.

This co-operative produced brick shaped lumps of something they called Bio-Erk which, when drowned and pounded into lumpy bits of sludge, eventually dried and was called ‘Ethnic Hand-Made Paper’.

So, did these guys apply for a grant from C****** University?’

‘No-o-o-o-o,’ she replied gaily, ‘we just gave it to them…’

All she needed was somewhere poor, somewhere on the sub-continent - anywhere would do. All she needed was a place that ticked the P.C. boxes, somewhere picturesquely deprived, some photogenic urchins with running noses, lives soon to be transformed with wealth and cyber-expertise, courtesy some ‘good-works’ target in some ‘good-works’ budget of some good-hearted University in Somewhere Good, U.S.A.

Dogster wasn’t the only one pissing in the sink.

That's enough for today.

It's great to know you're reading. [There'll be a secret lurker looking in, too. The management of Hotel Courtyard worked out I was the fabulous dogster within hours of my arrival - so much for anonymity.]

And to all the lesbian dwarves reading, I'm sorry. Maybe I should have said 'gay whale'.

I using google translate to read your story in Thai.

Quite funny in Tha!

oopss. that's suppose to be Thai not Tha. Damm google translate.

Glad you are enjoying yourself again!

I was getting worried about you --- glad you're back

MP pisses in the sink, too. How does this marriage survive?

I'm enjoying reading and looking forward to more...

I don't think I have to tell you that I am following along here and waiting for the next installment...

Oh, good! I've been awaiting your report from Kathmandu. You've opted for a different group of fellow travelers this time.

Wow, I go off to grocery shop, and look what I find when I get home! At least you should have had plenty of amusement during the strike. And for some places tripadvisor is totally a snare and a delusion - Marrakesh for instance...

LOVING the report, cant wait to hear more.
Dear Doggy if you are back in BKK between 21st-23rd of Feb i would LOVE to catch up with you, if you could bear it? (can we tempt you to join our GTG on the 23rd... small select crowd!)

Ah yes, the Courtyard. We liked it there, but also experienced the bitter cold and lack of power when we were there. I guess they haven't yet been able to procure a generator for the place. Otherwise, it seemed kinda fun. Where are you now dogster? Back in India yet?

Better get this to the top or he won't write anymore...

where is he?? broke the plate glass window and is being treated on the 3rd floor in the operating room manned by the woman with the wild hair??

Dogster, dear dogster? Are you coming back? Your readers (some of whom are currently spending time at candle-burning-at-both-ends jobs in order to get back on the streets...of Oz, in my case) anxiously await their vicarious escape.

It’s difficult to imagine Dogster having a youth, a time where he was not wise and perfect - but there was once a brief moment when he did not know it all.

In December 1971, to his utter confusion, Dog found himself in Kathmandu, barely twenty-one years old. He was a lost puppy deep on the hippy trail – of course, he behaved accordingly.

The Inn Eden was painted blood red. Outside, just by the door was a reassuring sign: HOME MADE BROWN BREAD.

Over the window, printed in large red letters on a blue background, were these words: INN EDEN HOTEL. Each letter had white edging, as if it had recently snowed. Below this a darker blue sign: HASHISH GANJA SHOP 1st FLOOR, above the door a long thin sign, white letters on blue: EDEN HASHISH CENTRE. Just in case you couldn’t read, each word was separated by little painted chillums.

Little Dog had found what he was looking for.

Once inside he had an immediate choice; stumble up the stairs to the Hashish Emporium or take a left into the Coffee Shop, a dungeon with wooden benches and what appeared to be a pig-run under the stairs.

Wee Doggie took a left, eased himself into a cubicle and ordered the hashish grilled cheese slices.

He woke up nearly forty years later and stumbled outside. Things had changed.

‘…The Eden Hashish Centre was the largest of several legal storefronts in Kathmandu that provided quality hash and grass to the tourists. Mr. Sharma, the owner, opened two shops. The original location was at 5/1 Basantpur in the famous "Freak Street" hippy district, a location that ironically now is occupied by a bank. The second shop was located at 5/259 Ombahal, said to be in the Thamel area.

In late 1973, soon after the second Eden hash shop opened, threats of the loss of foreign aid from the American administration of Richard Nixon forced Nepal to outlaw hashish and marijuana. The two Eden Hashish Centres, the Central Hashish Centre and the others closed their doors and the pot and hashish business moved underground…’

Business shifted to some empty fields, mid-way on a bicycle ride between Durbar Square and the Monkey Temple. They called the area Thamel.

There are only three kinds of people in Thamel – travelers, dumb tourists and those who make their living from the first two. Don’t look any further – that’s it. It’s a backpacker crap-hole and getting worse – but we’d better take it seriously; for way too many travelers, Thamel is Kathmandu.

Thamel is a construct, built up around the backpacker brigade during the late-seventies and eighties to service their every need; cheap hotels, fresh coffee, donuts and German cakes, spaghetti and hamburgers, draught beer and easy, underground dope, just like Goa. The tourists created Thamel - now Thamel creates the tourists.

Things have been horribly out of control ever since; building piled upon building, burrowing, arching, searching for that elusive door to the street, all boasting a haphazard kamikaze of signage overgrowing alleys in a last desperate attempt to be noticed. In season the streets are chock-a-block - somebody’s making money. Every building is a shop; every doorway leads to a restaurant, a bar, a massage parlor, a barber, a jeweler and fake Adidas shoes. There’s more - mystery doors into mystery places filled with ‘cool Nepali dudes’ trading whispers with craggy trekkers; a thriving sex industry; hustlers galore.

In a perverse way I quite like the place; it’s precisely what you want Kathmandu to be – a little bit of Bali, the tang of Amsterdam, a strangled Nepali Marrakech overlaid with sweet Tibet. Thamel is no more ‘real’ Kathmandu than I am. It’s a distorted snapshot of what somebody once thought Kathmandu should be - long after it wasn’t.

And it’s all Richard Nixon’s fault.

More later.

Those interested in a glimpse of the Inn Eden culture might like to click here:
http://edenhash.com/Posters-Calendars-for-sale.htm

I'm off to Bangkok, suitcases full of Tibetocrap, including two eight foot trumpets. Mercifully, they fold.

I'm here and enjoying too!

Ahh.. the lost dog is coming home! You're in for good weather here mate.

‘Forty-two’.

Dale was dressed in a T-shirt and beanie with a delicate golden pair of women’s flip-flops dangling from his big New Zilland toes.

‘Forty-two dresses,’ he said, jerking his head at the woman beside him, ‘she’s bought forty-two dresses - all like that…’

She sat with her breasts tied up in Rajasthani bundles of beads held up by a shoelace round her neck. Her shoulders were bare, her back naked right down to the small. Her feet were graced with a lattice of string and the merest slither of leather. Samina was a stunning Pakistani/Bangladeshi/Aussie creature with olive skin and black Bollywood eyes. Her neck reached out like a tortoise, framed in flashing long dark hair.

‘I like to be a woman,’ she purred, ‘I like girly things…’

Just one problem with this idyllic scene - it was the dead of a Nepali winter. They were surrounded by a table-full of tourists in hats, scarves, overcoats, stupid Nepali ear hats with bobbles on top, gloves and running noses, hot breath steaming out in clouds around them. We were huddled around a table over a candle, waiting till the power came back on.

‘We’ve been traveling for five months,’ Samina said gorgeously, ‘India-a-ahh… Nepaw-w-w-w-ll…’

Dale the dress-adder was stony-faced.

‘We went to Goa,’ he said dryly, ‘flew in direct - never left. Three months.’

In my youth, the verb ‘to party’ had not yet been coined - having fun was something you did accidentally on the way to work. Dale and Samina gave new meaning to a new verb, perfect Goa-fodder; young, gorgeous and wonderfully dumb. Three months went by in a snap.

‘Well, we were in New Delhi!’ she protested.

Eventually, lugging her forty-two dresses, they left Goa and caught the overnight train to Delhi. After three months on the sub-continent spent partying in a charmless tourist enclave, it was their first actual exposure to India.

‘We walked straight into it,’ Dale mumbled.

She’d imploded, burst into tears amid a welter of vexatious taxi drivers, gleeful porters, beggars, pickpockets and all the other low-life who love a scene, then folded loudly into a neat, limp, Princess heap in the arms of big Dale from New Zild who had no idea what to do either.

‘Oh my god, I ha-a-ated India,’ she gushed, ‘we were stuck in Delhi Railway Station for four hours, oh my god, those people surrounding us, screaming at me…’

‘Does she cry a lot?’ I asked, not very innocently.

She didn’t stop weeping till they and the forty-two dresses got to Nepal. On arrival, in a fit of madness, the intrepid couple and her wardrobe went trekking in flip-flops.

The Tuk-tuk Goose was from Egypt, in the prime of his energetic thirtieth year.

Rommy arrived in Delhi two weeks ago, transited to Kathmandu at that unfamiliar airport in a suitably reasonable period of time, pausing only to be directed out through immigration where his single-entry visa was stamped, then ushered back in through a different immigration to check onwards to Nepal. He didn’t know why, either, but he was. His single entry visa was used up in a two hour lay-over.

Not that he noticed. His great enthusiasm of the moment was some epic idiocy involving a tuk-tuk, eighty other idiots and a race from Pokhara to Cochin. So he and his team located each other, their tuk-tuk, their fellow racers and the whole traveling madness, prepared, stumbled to the starting line, drove across razorback ridges from Kathmandu all the way, overnight on hell roads, then overnight again into Sunauli, the exit point at the foot of the mountains, where Nepal bleeds into India.

He and his companions cruised up to immigration waving their tuk-tuks, madness and visas. Rommy was stamped out of Nepal and crossed no-man’s land to the Indian side where he learnt, in the middle of a tuk-tuk race, that a single–entry visa is just that. He had no visa, no options and that was that.

Enraged, in a fit of madness, he leapt into the tuk-tuk and tried to run the border. He was jumped on by five Indian police, arrested, talked down, eventually make friends with the border cops, was scolded and turned back, un-shot, to make his lonely way all the way back to Kathmandu. As he’d been arrested on the border he was in Nepal illegally so first he had to wait and, after a groveling letter of apology to everybody, apply for a Nepali visa.

Then he could get an Indian visa.

Then he could get a flight. He just wasn’t quite sure where.

All this time his tuk-tuk buddies were heading down, down, ever onwards into India – linked only by technology. He was aiming for a moving tuk-tuk target when I last saw him. I hope he hit dead centre. If there was a more determined man in Kathmandu, I didn’t meet him.

‘Oh my god, I ha-a-ated trekking…’

Princess Paris Hilton lasted just four days. Altitude sickness, food poisoning, fatigue, near-death by car, sherpa and local tour company led to her subsequent delivery to the Hotel Courtyard. Dale dragged his trekking dreams and her dresses into the foyer.

‘Can I help you?’ said the owner.

‘I hope so,’ sighed Dale, ‘look at her.’

Samina was in a terrible state.

‘What do you need?’ asked the host in that soothing Nepali way.

‘A steak!’ she gasped and fell, sobbing, onto a couch.

They arrived in their Goa flip-flops and six weeks later, had neither left the compound nor bought warm clothes, socks or shoes. They woke up and stumbled down to breakfast around lunchtime, then retired to the Courtyard Home Cinema, dedicated to their task of watching every one of the giant pile of DVD’s that towered over the guests in the library. They busily watched movies all day, pausing for a late lunch in the hotel restaurant, only venturing out for dinner with the other guests, always dressed for Goa. December slid into January, the temperature fell to zero, villagers froze to death in the hills - yet still those flip-flops stayed on.

There are a thousand shops in Thamel, all selling the same knock-off North Face items, there are ten thousand pairs of gloves and socks and stupid Peruvian woolen hats all selling for a dollar just a few feet down the street.

‘Why don’t you just buy some warm clothes and throw them away?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I hate to throw clothes away,’ she said blithely.

‘She collects them instead.’

Secretly, Dale was full of rage.

‘Who carries the forty-two dresses?’ I asked.

‘He’s the man,’ she purred and stroked his arm.

That'll give you something to read while I fly. Since writing the above, I’ve found Rommy's website:

http://tuktukgoose.com/the-story-of-what-happened-at-the-border-crossing-between-nepal-and-india/

http://tuktukgoose.com/the-visa-saga-finale/

He made it.

A very, very interesting man walked into the Hotel Courtyard; he was on a mission. It was not something monumental like to circumambulate Mt. Kailash or climb Mt. Everest or to prostrate his way to Muktinath…but it was his mission; just an idea that occurred to him after he had paid a visit to TripAdvisor looking for a hotel. This man was coming to Nepal. He had not been here in decades but the ride that he started in 1971 during a visit to Nepal had forever shaped his life. He had left Nepal years ago with his adventures (and memories?) and moved on to do bigger and better things with his life. He became a modest success in the theatre. So as he sat back happily collecting his royalties, an idea came to him. “I don’t need to work anymore so I’ll travel around the world! In fact, I’ll buy a big house, decorate it beautifully with things that I acquire in my travels and only stay there one or two months a year. Why you ask? Well because I’ll be travelling of course!” So there it was – he would travel. Again…

Back to his mission… Since he was already a proficient traveler and had visited many places, he felt it was time to return to Nepal. Perhaps it was because he was finally ready; or perhaps it was because Nepal was finally ready for him. Whichever it may be, he had visited TripAdvisor to see where he should stay. As he queried up Kathmandu hotels, who did he see ranked as No. 1? Why, non-other than the Hotel Courtyard! The Hotel Courtyard, a family run, 18 room, boutique hotel in Thamel? How could this be? How could they garner so many positive reviews and gushing guests? Well…he decided that this was to be his mission in Kathmandu. Was the Hotel Courtyard for real? Or, was there something fishy going on? He was the man for this mission and he would find out. But honestly, did he really know what he was in for?

Dr Who or The Who as in the music group from the 70s? Dogster in the theatre business? An actor or a playwriter?

Interesting... Is dogster getting ready to out himself for those who haven't figured it out yet, or is one of his fellow Courtyard guests cooking sauce for the gander? I think I'd be rather nervous about staying in the same hotel.

OK now i am confused!

I think 'The Who' as in the co-owner of the Hotel Courtyard! lol lol lol. I knew you'd appear, Michelle.

A few of her facts are a bit skew-whiff - but no matter, I reckon the right of reply is allowed - welcomed, in fact. Once I was sprung I knew there'd be a price to pay. lol lol lol. Fair 'nuff. We are all graced with such a clever response.

Actually my only mission was to smoke as much charas as I possibly could. Detective Dogster was a disguise.

I've been to Nepal half-a-dozen times in the last five years, but sometimes it seems like I'm still in the Inn Eden, lost in my hashish grilled cheese slices. What happened to that young man? What happened to those grilled-cheese-slicey dreams? What made him into the grizzled, pathetic old mongrel who appears in Fodors?

It's a dog's life.

A 'modest success'? I've never been a modest success at anything. I can't chew gum and walk at the same time. Theatre? Show-biz? lol. I don't anything about the theatre - only the constant spectacle of the Hotel Courtyard. That's all the performance I need. What a show!

I'm in Bangkok now.

I'll finish this first Kathmandu episode soon. I know it doesn't remotely resemble a proper trip report - but, if you stop to think about it, it's a report of what happened on my trip, so... lol. In the second epistle, if we get to that, there may even be a little bit of sight-seeing.

Dogster wrote: [There'll be a secret lurker looking in, too. The management of Hotel Courtyard worked out I was the fabulous dogster within hours of my arrival - so much for anonymity.]

And I thought that you are some kind of stage actor like the Phantom from the Phantom of the Opera(Michael Crawford of course)

Now that the Courtyard Cat is out of the bag, in case we get diverted - here's the last part of the first part.

January in Kathmandu is bitterly cold. Only the vampire prickles of Thamel bother with the tourists, rearing out of the damp like half-dead wraiths; hooded, shriveled, petrol-sniffing children; junkie youths hissing ‘smoke?’ ‘we-e-e-eed?’ ‘what you want?’, incanting the same carnivorous Om-m-m-m to indulgence as their long-dead, frozen forefathers did forty years ago.

January days are crisp, warm and clear. There’s a window of opportunity during the daylight hours. All fine, provided you wake up before 1.00 p.m., something Dogster consistently failed to do for the entire time he was there. He slept like a dead log, encased in a burrow of squash-you-flat doonas, suddenly in winter hibernation.

My window of opportunity became rather small. Dogster never made it out of the hotel before two - by five p.m. it’s damn cold and when the last rays of the sun disappear the temperature plummets; by six it’s bitter, by seven I’m either somewhere warm or dead.

Better eat dinner early. Even on a weekend the restaurants in Thamel are shuttered by ten, the streets empty by ten-fifteen, just the last drunk tourist shouting their last drunk goodbyes. By ten-thirty Thamel is virtually deserted, only glue babies left shivering in the dark.

Even in arctic January, rust never sleeps in Nepal.

[b-awN-dh] adj.:
Bandh, also a Nepali word meaning 'closed', is a form of protest. While often means the closing down of markets of a city for the day, but there have been instances of the entire nation coming to a standstill.

Don’t make a stand in a bandh - you’ll get your nose chopped off.

www.myrepublica.com/portal/printable_news.php?news_id=13863

BANDH DISRUPTS LIFE IN KATHMANDU

‘…In Nepal, normal life remained disrupted in Kathmandu valley today following a day-long bandh called by Rashtriya Janmorcha protesting against federalism. Major shops and business establishments remained closed and public transport were off the roads, affecting road communication between Kathmandu valley and other parts of the country. Cadres of RJN vandalised half a dozen vehicles including taxis, motorbikes and buses in Bhaktapur, Chabahil and Gongabu, New Bus Park and Putalisadak for defying the bandh call. Police have made tight security arrangements to maintain law and order…’.

Kathmandu Jan 10

As bandhs go, Sunday’s was very calm. Somehow, I missed the cadres of RJN youth vandalizing cars. The media certainly didn’t – you’d think the whole of Nepal was ablaze. Quite the reverse – except for the missing nose, it was all rather dull.

You can always tell when there’s a bandh, you wake up late to something missing; the hum, that buzz of business – all gone. Look out the window - nobody. Information for a non-Nepali speaking tourist? None.

You can always check your diary:
www.nepalbandh.com
which will tell you what happened yesterday.

Actually, nobody wants to tell you that you’re stuffed - because if you want to go anywhere, you are. A pre-dawn dash out of the capital has been known to work; backpackers recently reported colorful scenes hiking overland through the deserted streets to the airport - the wise tourist just changes plans, gives up and moves to Thamel.

Thamel has an invisible cordon around it, rarely broken even at the worst of times. Even an enraged Nepali Maoist knows not to bite the hand that indirectly feeds him – be it criminal or tourist. Layers of Nepali sub-Mafia run Thamel – no matter what the politics, business will out. In a way, it’s probably the best place to be in a bandh.

There was a small green sign on a large blue bus parked on the edge of Thamel. It read:

TOURST SUTTELE BUS
ONLY for TOURIST

Then it said the same thing again, hopefully in Nepali.

The 'suttele' bus was straining with locals, intent on a lift out of town. How real tourists suttele to the airport during a bandh remains a mystery. There is no transport. Cycle rickshaws work in the Thamel area with trepidation, motorbikes zoom through, a rare, rare taxi cruises by – but that’s all. The shops are shuttered, every door, every window – not a chai, not a coffee, not a scrambled egg to be had. Some find it refreshing. I was hungry.

Generally, bandhs are most ferocious in the morning when the RJN cadres are fresh, enthusiastic, all primed to beat the bejeezus out of any errant shopkeeper, any greedy taxi-driver they see. They get a bit tired by mid-afternoon.

Everybody else just stands around, waiting for something to happen. I saw many bored policemen; they are just sick of it - a bandh is a bandh is a bandh in Kathmandu. As the day wears on the marauding cadres get too tired or drunk to continue, the shutters slither open, renegade chai appears in the street; by three p.m. you can buy bananas or hashish, by four a sticky bun. The Latest, Greatest Bandh of Kathmandu passed with barely a whimper.

It was a dangerous silence, just the same.

Aunty Esme’s hair carried her across the courtyard. Two men laden with boxes followed. She’d slept in a warm bed for two nights with a heater and a television that worked, talked in English with strangers, bathed in a hot shower; Esme had even been to the Charm Beauty Parlour [Ladies Only] – she was glowing. Her hair was clean for the first time in four months and had taken on a life of its own. It swept out either side of her face like two grey wings ready to lift her back to the lonely place on the border that starts with a ‘B’.

She stopped for a moment, stared at me with those crinkled, gentle eyes and sighed.

‘Oh well,’ she said wistfully, ‘back to the real world…’

Me too.

The multiple characters of the hotel were so gripping I had to force my own way out the door. I was living in an endless Andy Warhol movie with no plot, set nowhere, achieving nothing; engrossed in the Big Brother house with a rotating cast of Fabulous Nobodies – including, most definitely, me.

The Courtyard Cabaret will never close; the show will run forever. For the Diva Dog, it was time to go. I'd had my time on the slippery silver stage. It’s always best to leave before you’re voted out.

Done. More in a few days if you want it.

YES PLEASE BRAVOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Man, Dogster...you sure can write! If you are not a professional writer already...you should be! Despite sounding at times like you are sampling something strange your descriptions of people are sheer poetry! Impressive report.

Dogster... I have missed so much by mainly reading the European Forum! I have just been reading your fantastic cruise ship tale. I gather you are Australian? Explains a lot if you are as they, myself included,have the best sense of humour!Beats that colourless stuff that passes for comedy in most other places.
I read how many people are urging you to write a book.... You should! Do you have a web site with other writing on it? Let us all know if you do.
Brilliant stuff!

fabulous, fabulous! can't wait for more!

Ms.Michelle-- The Who-- do tell us more, please! It's not often we get independent information about Dogster's observations. Did YOU see any of those people or were they only crawling around in Dogster's head? Enquiring Fodor's readers need to know...

lol lol lol Marija - ever the detective. How could you doubt the Dog? I'd imagine Michelle and the ladies of the Courtyard have the right of reply. I'll just go sit in my bomb-shelter.

I will have to catch up after my own adventure but please keep on!

I'm here and reading, Dog. Keep going.

BC

Sorry Marija: I'm reliably informed that our newest mystery member - TheWho - is NOT Ms. Michelle, esteemed co-owner of the Hotel Courtyard.

O.K. I'll come out of the bomb shelter, then.

I must say that this piece was incredibly difficult to write, knowing in advance that some of the people involved were going to be reading it - how to say what you need to without being mean and cruel. I tried to write it with affection. It's a fine line between pleasure and pain.

By the way, for anybody wondering - these trip reports of what is now nearly three months on the road will appear in reverse order. Kathmandu first, then a rewritten Tamil Nadu, then some more Mumbai and last, if I can bear to write it, the ordeal by Pandaw.

Which was about as horrible an experience as you can imagine.

But first, maybe, some more Kathmandu. I'm a bit 'in-transit' at the moment so words come easily - or not at all. Can't control 'em, they come when they want to.

This is too good not to continue. Am waiting with bated breath.

Ms.Michelle, do come join us! There always room for another Who and whatever information you can bring about the mysterious capers in Kathmandu. And a challenge to The original Who-- Don't paraphase or google background info for the tale, tell us something to show that you really were there...

Woof Woof, come on Doggie it's absorbing and I'm listening......Pauline

I have it from a reliable source that dogster is eccentric and lovable. =D

Sorry, trav, good old Bruno is not an objective source. Those dogs stick together...

‘Yesterday upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there…
He wasn't there again today,
Oh, how I wish he'd go away…’

Hughes Mearns: "Antigonish"

He’s sitting there, pallid and thin, staring out vacantly at Durbar Square. He’s wasted. He looked over at me and smiled. It was that same brainless smile I’ve seen for decades. I’m a bit sick of it now; the vacuity, the Woodstockian mindlessness of it all. I lived through the Seventies; I had to tolerate every loony-tune fruit-loop loser in the spirit of the times - now I just want to beat them to a pulp.

The kid was staying just round the corner, at some dive with a stupid hippie name. He’d only just arrived but had already found what he was looking for. He’ll stay in his fatal nexus of guest house, coffee shop and street. He’ll catch a glimpse of a historical site, a temple, a cow, stumble stoned through Durbar Square, plonk his skinny arse on a stool in the nearest tea shop and sit and smoke dope and crash out and say ‘I’ve been to Kathmandu…’

No, he hadn’t.

For this young man the mere act of getting here was sufficient. He’d done it, ticked it off on his list. Countries I have been to. Places I have seen. A couple of days here, a couple there, hurtling round at the speed of light; I’ve been there, tick, I’ve done that, tick, I’ve done it all – I’m so wise, I’m twenty-one, I’m a grown up, I’ve been to Kathmandu…

No, he hadn’t.

Not yet.

Now, I’m older than Thamel – but then, I’m older than almost everybody in Kathmandu. For that matter, I’m older than practically everybody in Nepal. Average life expectancy hovers at sixty-three years. I was truly a very senior citizen.

Which didn’t stop the latest Jimmy catching my eye - he knew an old hippy when he saw one. A raised eyebrow, the slightest wiggle of his head, a hurried conversation and I was following him down the street. Jimmy was pretty out of it but benign. He was a regular. He reached into his pocket as we were walking down the street and pulled out a lump of hashish that made me stop dead in my tracks.

‘No-o-o-o, way too much. Lordy, put it away, it’s huge!’

The block of hashish in question was the size of two cigarette packets side by side. It was a brick of golden brown, bigger than the hand that held it, easily the biggest block of hash I’d seen in my life. People pushed past us as we stopped near the taxi rank, dead centre of the main street.

‘It’s O.K.,’ Jimmy said, I’ll break some off for you.’

He rotated it for my inspection, completely unconcerned, then tore off a chunk from one corner and palmed it to me with a handshake. With rain starting to pour around us I returned too many Nepali rupees, said a hurried goodbye, threaded my way back through Thamel dodging junkies and motor bikes, cars and a particularly enthusiastic demonstration of screaming women who firmly believed that their shouting would remove China from Tibet. I settled into my new hotel doing what you do to the corner of a giant block of Nepali charas.

Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.

Hotel Courtyard was exchanged for the Arcadia Apartment Hotel, booked on a whim after dinner at the restaurant directly opposite. It was a hotel with considerable lack of style, perfectly located with a huge room peeking over the Thamel rooftops complete with kitchen, a hard bed and two squash-me-flat-doonas that I could barely lift off in the morning.

I was content. I needed solitude.

The only things it lacked were heating - and any service at all. The key was handed over – three days later the key was handed back. That was it. Two sweet Nepali women visited me once in the meantime, to make the bed and check I wasn’t dead.

As it turns out, there was a good reason. I quote:

‘… just incase any of you see anything perhaps in the papers or news in the next couple of days about a european tourist being found dead in arcadia apartments in kathmandu dont worry im okay. it was the guy who lived 3 doors down from me. its been an afternoon of police and army people outside the door and stuff like that. i had to stay in the apartment for a couple of hours while they checked his apt and this was the tragic outcome.

i was originally going to write a bit just about all my amazing travels so far and how fantastic its been but under the circumstances i think ill just put it on hold for another day. and i guess instead …id ask you to spare a thought for the poor guy down the hall and his family & friends, and to just be glad that im safe and well in Kathmandu…’

I hope ‘Nikkiviper’ won’t mind my steal from her blog in travelpod. With great difficulty I resisted the urge to add punctuation and capital letters. There’s something kinda nice about her gentle style.

Dogster didn’t last all that long at the Arcadia. He kept thinking he was in the same room.

I'm following along on this journey, enjoying glimpses of Kathmandu through a dog's eyes.

I'm sorry about all the druggie stuff. I think it's apropos. Dog endures it all for the common good. Just say 'no'.

Good morning, dog. Just got home late last night from a week in Vegas. Catching up on my reading. How's Bangkok? Pls go say hi to Maeng, and wish her a belated happy 50th birthday for me!
Carol

O.K. so Thamel is not REAL Kathmandu, although I have not met any humans who ever said it was some exclusive domain. So where is the REAL Kathmandu? The inexorable conclusion must also be that Kathmandu is not REAL Nepal, so what is real? Just start with what the All-knowing regard as Kathmandu? Oh, and why does the All-knowing go there in the most uncomfortable season?

Boudhanath hits you like a golden gong.

If you have ears to hear and a heart to feel, the reverberations stay with you for hours. Go at sunset. Walk in, stop for a minute and look straight ahead. Framed, like a giant Breughel painting, is a scene you won’t forget - a flood of people walking in a circle, a solid wall of pilgrims, locals, monks, monks and more monks heading clockwise with great determination.

For the stupafied I’d better explain.

‘…Boudhanath is one of the holiest Buddhist sites in Kathmandu, Nepal. Located about 11 km from the center and northeastern outskirts of Kathmandu, the stupa's massive mandala makes it one of the largest spherical stupas in Nepal. The Buddhist stupa dominates the skyline. The ancient Stupa is one of the largest in the world. The influx of large populations of Tibetan refugees from China has seen the construction of over 50 Tibetan Gompas (Monasteries) around Boudhanath. As of 1979, Boudhanath is a UNESCO World Heritage Site…’

Wikipedia

‘We're on a road to nowhere
Come on inside…’

Take a very big lotus. Stick it in the middle of a circle. Squash it flat. Take a very big champagne glass and up-end it. Bung it on the lotus. Paint the glass white. Turn that lotus into concrete, make the wine glass solid brick. Break off the upended base. Take a square children’s building block – jam it down the stem till it meets the bowl. Cover with gold. Paint two huge eyes on every side. Take a golden stepped pyramid, stretch it and jam it down on top of the block - then leave your stupa to settle for, let’s say, five hundred years.

Now comes the best part. Get one hundred long strings of prayer flags, tie ‘em at the tip of the stem – then arrange them right around the circle, so they touch the edge of your lotus leaves.

Around your stupa, at the base, place a million prayer wheels. Watch as the faithful circle your creation, sunrise, sunset, every day, every month, every year. Round and round, for ever - round and round, the great wind of pilgrimage, round and round - you, me, it; we’re nothing, just atoms drawn around this gold and white thing in the circle, this monumental finger, pointing at the sky.

‘We’re on a road to nowhere...’ David Byrne once sang.

That Nihilist turn of phrase always appealed to me – but, in my Western way, I’d assumed that all roads led somewhere. Sixty years of life has proved otherwise. There are a lot of dead ends.

But we travel because we must, stumble forward through the gloom. Why waste time getting anywhere? Best to wander round and round hoping for a blessing, round and round, always circling, hoping for a glimpse, round and round, round and round, looking for the way in.

Never gonna find it. Never gonna get there.

Keep circling, Dog.

I think I'll stop there.

Kinda Kathmandu.

Thank you, dogster.

In Buddhist way, the round and round is it and you are here/there. The journey is the destination.

Can you try writing a bit more colorfully?

TheWho gives clues. Dogster tries to throw us off the scent. But I know. His canine handle is a clue. He taps out wonderful stories to entertain us. Rhymes with clever.

Dogster=word love. You make a logophile very, very happy.

You love logs?

Catch-up.

As you've probably noticed, when I'm transmitting, I tend not to receive, so forgive me if I've ignored all your really nice words.

'...Can you try writing a bit more colorfully?...'

I'm assuming this is an ironic comment, LA. lol. The piece is little more than colour and movement - with a hearty dollop of self-indulgence thrown in.

As for the rest of what you're talking about - I have no idea what you mean. What 'rhymes with clever'? Not very many things. Don't blow my cover, LA. It's called 'moving on'.

I think I'll have to get the post in question removed. But, on second thoughts, that goes against the grain. All's fair in Fodor's.

travelaw has just left for 'cyber-purdah' [indianapearl's great description, not mine] but she alone knows the truth about the Dogster. heh.

'I have it from a reliable source that dogster is eccentric and lovable.'

Absolutely true, trav.

Carol [simpsonc510] is one of the few Fodorites that has actually met the Dog, although I was in a number of disguises. She had to go immediately to Vegas to rid her mind of the experience. Only repeated attendance at the Donny and Marie Osmond show at the Flamingo has revived her.

thursday: the Dog will never 'out himself' - although I get the distinct feeling that the Fodor's grapevine has worked it all out. I prefer it when sleeping dogs are let lie.

I particularly love it when somebody comes in from the cold and notices the Dogster's ramblings. Thanks, KERRYAJS1 for your great words: '...sampling something strange...' How perceptive of you. lol.

Marija - lol, stop stirring. Bruno is a terrible gossip, but a Great Dane only tells the truth. It is the way of all dogs, even this one. I have formed a new organisation called 'The Reality Construction Company' and, as CEO, have my own permission to select the appropriate slice of 'real' to fit my needs. Yes, there may be other simultaneous truths going on - but a blind Dog can only see what what he can feel.

Kathie: our trips to KTM were rather different, weren't they? Had I not been there half-a-dozen times before, my focus would have been far more like yours. Now, KTM is a good place for R'n R. I go back to my favorite places. I tried to find some new ones this time - but was hijacked by the Courtyard, my own weak will and a Jimmy or two. 'Plus sa change...'

Amy: words rule. In Australia a disease like logophilia is treated on arrival at the airport. Nobody that can pronounce more than three consecutive syllables is allowed in.

Now, I'll reflect on the impossibility of answering merkxxx's rather interesting, if cerebral question: '...so, what is real?'

As he/she has promoted me from stumble-bum fool to cosmic 'All Knowing' master of the universe, I feel that such a reply should be in my grasp. I'll just walk around Boudhanath another three million times and maybe I'll come up with it.

Om-m-m-m-m-m.

Dog, I saw that big Donny and Marie sign, but did not partake. I saw Bette Midler instead. What a show! Now my mind is most definitely cleared of anything I once "knew" about the dog and our chance meeting.. teehee

So how's Bangkok. You didn't say. Where is your home away from home this time? Is it the Arnoma now?
Carol

dogster - consider the "d" in my name to stand for discretion. My branch of the grapevine exists in splendid isolation - although LA and I may have independently reached the same conclusion ("clever"??).

Let's keep Dogster's cat in the bag...

I LOVE cats . . . keep on the trail, Dogster. I'm not quite sure where you are at the moment, but then, perhaps you don't know either.

On another note, Boss and I had dinner last week in Austin with our old friend, bonnieheather. She and her DH are well. We'll be back in late April when our granddaughter is born and will get together again.

Dog, if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have awarded you a 2009 Foddie.

BC

Dogster, was it irony or sarcasm? No one is more colorful than you. I won't blow yours if you won't blow mine (oh, that sounds a bit naughty).
I am not part of any grapevine, other than the one that produces fermented liquid you drink. Just good at nosing around. Any half-baked journalist knows how to root things out on his life's mission: "Comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." [H.L. Mencken]
But I too have moved on.

Leslie, that quote sounds purely like Gpanda.

BC

Being a lawyer, Gpanda is probably good at afflicting the comfortable and the afflicted (in the latter case, by taking cases on contingency).
And Dogster, don't you DARE remove this post!

Red rag to a Dog really that!

lol Mary; LA is my literary advisor and Sherlock Holmes to my Watson. She can say anything she likes. She can threaten, cajole and be downright rude and all I do is smile.

It occurs to me that I don't actually know if LA is a 'she' lol. Dunno why I assumed that.

Actually, LA doesn't know it, but a comment she made in the Tamil Nadu thread I had deleted was the single thing that made me go 'Wha...? Dog is going mad. Hmmmm - could it be the cough medicine...? Perhaps if I stop taking that....?'

So, LA rescued me from insanity, Tamil Nadu and certain death. I owe her.

She also reads my words in a different way. A smart dog would send her everything in advance for editing before bunging it in here. But, I'm not a smart dog.

On matters mysterious: all Detective LA needed was a single clean clue. I love sleuthing too. I particularly love hoisting people up and jamming them down on their own petard. Which is why I liked merkxxx's comment above. What's good for the goose...

How's the roo-buster, Mary? Give him my regards.

Just received an e-mail from the Kathmandu Embassy - Looks like the Maoists are set to shut down the whole of Nepal starting on Sunday...

No surprise Craig. The 24th January has been a date to conjure with for weeks now... I'm glad I got there - AND out before the big lock-down.

I'll have to call the Hyatt and cancel the band. I had garlands, gurkhas and ganja, all prepared and waiting for you... damn.

IT's crazy stuff. Everybody suffers, nobody gains. So, I guess Plan B is firming up, eh?

I'd be avoiding Darjeeling, too.
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Gorkhaland-stir-hits-Darjeelings-tea-tourism/articleshow/5435603.cms

Actually consuming black tea last month during a cold snap contributed to a kidney stone I passed last week. (Black tea is rich in oxylates which bind with calcium to form a kidney stone.) It was very cold last month and I'd taken to have a cuppa (or two or three) in the evening.

BC

lol BC - well, that's good to know.

I'm not quite sure just HOW you pass a kidney stone, [no, I don't need the details], but if it's what I think, I very much hope it was a little one.

Pray tell - just what does this have to do with Kathmandu? lol lol lol. So funny.

Fortunately, Darjeeling is not on our itinerary which includes Varanasi, Udaipur, Aurangabad and Bangkok.

Nothing, other than seeing "Darjeeling" made me think of tea instantly.

Actually, believe it or not, there was no pain whatsoever involved in passing this particular stone. Not so lucky in late 2004, when I passed my first kidney stone (due to taking calcium supplements) which sent me to the local hospital in tears due to physical discomfort. However, the whole ordeal is supposed to be much, much, much, much, much worse for men!

BC

Does anyone have any good info about the Maoists in eastern India?

Kidney stones: for intimate and excruciating detail on this, read Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self by Claire Tomalin.

Not quite sure where we are with Dogster's travels but...
I leave for India on 28th having digested all the dog's wisdom.

gertie - only 6 more sleeps! How great. There's not much of a meal in a Dog's wisdom. I think it's a matter of do as I say, NOT what I do.

Don't worry about that left hand and just pick up a plug with two round prongs. I've been checking your old posts - I was deep on the road by then so I lost you; where did you decide to stay in Goa? If it's the Panjim Inn, about a hundred yards down the side street heading into town, to the left, is a great little restaurant. Perfect for us singles. You'll see why.

Also within a block is a reputedly great Portugese [ish] restaurant. The owner's brother had died so it was shut for me. Maybe he died because he knew I was in town.

And remember, as this is your first trip to India, never exit an airport without making sure you have a pre-paid taxi or a pre-arranged airport pick-up. Just do this for me - O.K.?

Remember also that should things turn weird, a quick post in here will bring you all the reassurance and advice you'll need. I am an expert in Indian weirdness. Wow, how excited you must be.

indiana: Maoist is a big term. So is Eastern India. Everything is specific and local. I can't remotely follow the politics - but if you want to know who's killing each other this week, you'll need to be more specific.

BC - free association is fine by me. I could scarcely point the finger of scorn at that. My whole life these days is free association.

Dogster, you are SO sweet!
Yes, I will get myself a pre-paid taxi from the taxi stand in the airport when I arrive.
Yes, I have booked the Panjim Inn, the people there were very nice.
Yes, I will post if things go pearshaped
Yes I am very excited. I leave for London tonight!

Woo-hoo! Fabulous. Get Panjim to do your pick-up from the airport. The restaurant there is errr... adequate to fairly crappy, tho [food wise] - just go along the little street and look down [I think] the first alley to the left.

There, I bet you'll find a collection of the oddest, most interesting people in town. I sure did. Now get off the internet and begin the great adventure!

Dogster, I did actually think my Tamil Nadu comment was possibly to blame for the de-posting. But I like even crazy, even when it's crazier than normal. (Insert smiley face here.)
I'm a she, right the first time.
And I only give literary advice for a price since that was my profession. Maybe we can trade services and you can teach me something in return for my advice. But you don't need it. A natural you are, not only with words but perceptions about people, politics, life.
And it was a single clean clue way way back that did it. You probably know which one. As a devout fan, I parse your every word carefully.
Brilliant ending to this Kathmandu adventure tale, BTW. And brilliantly articulate insights into the do-gooders, my favorite part.

Thanks LA for those nice words.

I'm changing hotels today: now that Kathmandu is off my chest I'm feeling strangely attracted to revisiting the Fate and Tamil Nadu debacle - some of which is SO odd that, even though the whole story will make me seem like a witless, gibbering fool, even worse than usual, I might chuck myself back into it - if the new hotel has the right vibes for writing.

We'll see.

I'm curious. Is there something about hotels that brings out the creativity? Can't write at home?
Look forward to Tamil Nadu but even more to Pandaw!

I am athrill with anticipation for the next installment!
And it looks like I won't be bringing my logophilia to Australia this year after all; it's suddenly morphed into Chile. 2011 for Oz, maybe.

Life is really interesting.

It's our treat to see the Doggie chase his own tale. Our good fortune that he travels Asia so frequently. He could just as easily tromp around Africa or South America and we Asian Fodorites would be so much poorer.

Most of it is done at home - but, as I'm now never at home, I'm moving into a new work practice. The above piece was really just get me back into the zone. Once I'm there, as you well know, it's easier to continue than stop.

What I did learn in Tamil Nadu is not to try and blog on the road. It's incredibly time-consuming and prone, as I'll soon demonstratrate, to madness. Everything needs at least a week's reflection before posting. The more extreme moments need longer - hence the wait on Pandaw.

Because Pandaw WAS extreme - for me, anyway. Three months later and I'm still disturbed. I really don't know how I'll write that without burning some bridges. The Prince of Patna probably won't be too pleased either. Both these pieces will probably be written at home - if I ever get there.

Roo-buster sends regards back, Dogster. He's doing great as he hasn't had the desire to tackle any more of the population lately or maybe they are just staying out of his way for a change - the place is full of tourists so the roos are spending their time jumping in front of them instead!

Hi Dogster: You are making me very nervous with your comments about the "ordeal by Pandaw." Please divulge all while I still have time to jump ship!

eks - I was talking about the Ganges. In Burma and along the Mekong the cruises are perfectly fine. I've spent, from memory, at least a month [combined] on Pandaws in Burma and done the Mekong trip 2 1/2 times. You're in good hands. If you were going to India I'd be worried for you [and sending you a personal E-mail to explain why] - but you're not. Relax on this one - you and your companions will find everything to your satisfaction. Luckily, you're traveling with pals - which means you can avoid the other passengers if they are vile.

Pandaw does have a client base of some of the most awful people in creation. Without exception, they come from the U.K. Sorry if that offends anyone here - but I don't care: it's 100% true. I'm not even gonna add the customary IMHO.

Really - rela-a-a-ax. You've made a good choice.

Well....hahaha....I pop in for a quick peek after an extended absence and a bit of life on the road...and lordy look who has re-surfaced - full of vim and vigor. Good to "hear" you are back in the pink despite all the docs best efforts to lay you low. HNY mate.

Had to laugh at the Nepal Jimmy bit - flashed me back to August '69. An unassuming preppie from the burbs stumbled onto a thing called Woodstock and quite an education was had, HA! Anyway those stories are best left for another time/place....or maybe even better forgotten.

Say, lay off the talk about being old, huh ? We are VERY close in age, yet I still have the mental perception that I am twenty something - don't burst the bubble, haha - kinda enjoy that illusion/delusion/flashback.

Wait just a minute, Mr. Hound. Pandaw has the most abysmal client base but I should relax?

I am not sure that even my charm and personality can bring up the standards brought low by fellow cruisers such as the infamous Tent Lady...

How great to see you again, becalm. I've been missing your spiritual guidance. I, too think I'm about 28 - until I look at the wizened prune in the mirror. I even shave with my eyes closed these days. I'm very sensitive in the morning.

The problem with travel in the sub-continent is that everybody asks me: 'How old are you Uncle?' I even had a beggar-
woman address me as 'grandfather' in Nepal. I killed her on the spot.

Eks: Ahhh, Ms Muu-muu... I'd forgotten about her. lol. That was AssamBengal Hoogli cruise, not Pandaw. But eks, I don't want to expand on the clientele in this post. This isn't about that.

For those confused by the muu-muu reference, go here: http://www.fodors.com/community/asia/dogster-tumbling-down-the-hoogli.cfm

Ignore him, Eks. Aussies hate Pommies. If nothing else you'll get some laughs and some good stories to tell, maybe your own Tent Lady.

I killed a pharmacy aide yesterday. He looked at me and announced--didn't ask--that he'd automatically deduct the senior discount from my prescription. He expected me to be thrilled.

haha...just couldn't resist this one D-ster
"Winter spring summer or fall
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there yeah yeah yeah.
You've got a friend."

- not sure if you were serious and why you would ever want my perspective on anything but jic...dogsters-friend athotmail com will get my attention. Happy Trails.

..oh btw, mirrors are highly over-rated and from my youth, sticks and stones... ok, ok enough, back to watching the Aussie Open for me.

EKS is a closet anglophile. She'll be thrilled with the Pandaw's client base. As we speak, she's packing her tweeds.

She'll need tweeds, a sneer AND a sense of superiority. Luckily, as that is quite a bit of extra baggage to carry around, she can leave her sense of humour behind to lighten the load.

By the way, Gpanda, I didn't thank you for your lovely words above.

becalm: 'dogsters-friend'... sigh. I can sleep well tonight. I have a friend!

[Dogster retires to his pathetic, lonely bed, sobbing with gratitude]

now now Doggy dear are you taring all us pomms with your brush?

Tweeds she has, but she is sneerless. Who has time for sneering when you're planning so much? Of course, her proclivity for reviving long-dead threads is veddy Briddish.

Of course not, Smeagol - only the ones who go on Pandaw cruises with me. They are a specific breed, between 70 and death and still live in the British Empah-h-h-h.

sigh - I can see what my next essay will have to be about. Everybody wants to know about Pandaw. That'll either take a bit of time - or it'll just fall out of me like pooh thru' the proverbial goose. I'll start on it.

Ah, peer pressure rules. Give your audience what it wants!

I have to say I've run across lots of those aging arrogant pinl skinned Pomms at African safari camps. Of course, we Americans have them too. They're called Republicans.

The Maoists called off the strike - let's see what happens next.

Dogster,
Please do get started, rather sooner than later.

Might we conclude that "secret men's business" was nothing more strenuous than a leisurely float on the Ganges?!

No Marija - we should not conclude that, otherwise we would have heard all about it before now.

LA: our very own Dame Nellie Melba, elderly and faded diva de l'opera used to say 'Give 'em muck'. She was also famous for using the more intimate services of her stage-hands prior to a performance to err... lubricate her throat.

Luckily Dogster does not subscribe to either her theory or technique so the report will take some time.

Here's an ethical question LA: if key parts of said story are contained in private E-mails between one party and another can a man of integrity use them? I'd think the answer is 'no'.

Wait, there's a caveat.

But if the recipient of said E-mails was leaking MY private correspondence to him [without my knowledge - and to my complete horror when discovered] to all and sundry during the exchange would that change my attitude?

I'd suspect that my personal E's to him have gone 'into the public domain' at that point and can be used.... ? Your thoughts?

So does this mean I can, tit-for-tat, reveal his replies?

Goose. Gander.

Dog - i know EXACTLY the kind of clientele you are referring too... that really made me laugh... did they have their pearls on the whole time?

Anyway looking forward to the next installment.

Dogster, you have accurately summarized the give and take of priveleged communications. If one side violates the secret nature of the communication, the other is free to divulge the contents of said communication. We expect full disclosure.

Take the high moral ground!

Thank you very much indeed Gpanda. Given your provenance, I'll take that as read. That's ONE of the moral issues out of the way. I welcome any opposing views.

But there's another moral problem - far, far more difficult. It's a different topic, but connected. I'll try and come up with an abstract example - give me a moment to compose my words very, very carefully.

We are happy to wait.... not to long though!!.

Ethics:

Mr. A runs a travel company. Mr. B has been a client of his on a number of occasions. Things are not going well on a new project in a new country. Mr. B happens to know the territory. Support from Mr. B to Mr. A results, most unexpectedly, in the offer of a freebie to see - and spy.

Mr B takes it. Things do not turn out well. The more Mr. B sees, the more appalled he is. There has been no planning, there is no duty of care or on the spot responsibility going on. EVERYBODY lies. The trip is an unmitigated disaster. The other paying clients are actually placed in real physical danger because of pure incompetence and internal politics. When they are not being nearly killed, they are being short-changed, taken for granted and treated with charming contempt. They are blissfully unaware. The trip ends with a flurry of catastrophe.

O.K. Stuff happens.

But the trip continues to be sold. The lies roll on. Naive clients continue to buy a trip that, on paper, looks good but on the ground, continues to be a nightmare. Pure practicality means that it will never get any better. Everybody blames everybody else. The beat goes on. Nobody cares.

But Mr. B was on a freebie. He can say nothing without biting the hand that fed him.

So, in the long term, what is Mr. B's moral responsibility? Bite that hand - or shut up?

No question, Mr. Dog, this is complex and I understand why you are conflicted. But getting something for free does not mean one needs praise it if it does not warrant praise. Beyond that, one might say that ethics would demand that one speak up if others' welfare was being imperiled, even if one were given the cruise gratis.

Take it one step beyond this. Mr. A, in the spirit of being an honorable man, chooses not to speak up about the conditions on the cruise, as his friend Mr. B had comp'ed him the cruise. Some time later, there is a real disaster on the cruise, and one or more passengers is seriously injured. It turns out that the passenger who was injured had been a devoted reader of Mr. A's travel tales on Fodors, and had she known even a bit about the earlier voyage, she would have cancelled.

I saw a post here not long ago by someone who is booked on the Ganges cruise.

Has the other side divulged any of the communication from you and you know that for a fact.

You have two choices, ride the high road and keep mum, or let it all out. Being the the nosy parker that I am, I want all the gory details and swear I will never repeat it to another soul.

If Mr.B. had a wonderful experience would he have shut up or would he have spread the joyous news, again enhancing Mr. A's empire? Would he have felt morally bound not to comment on the cruise because he was not paying? (As an aside, did Mr.A. himself not describe the particular product in less than enthusiastic terms?) Is it morally acceptable for Mr. B., an honorable and admired man, to be silenced by a mere freebie? I think not. His obligation is to his fellow travelers and not to Mr. A. who knows that Mr.B. is a prolific writer of travel adventures. Mr. A. knew exactly what he was doing when he welcomed Mr.B. on board. (Of course if Mr. B. signed a non-disclosure agreement that's an entirely different matter.)

Did Mr. B agree to terms that said, in effect, "if you take this freebie, you only get to say nice things"? I rather doubt it. It's true that some travel writers take freebies, and then only find nice things to say, but I don't think even they are obligated to overlook actual danger, and Mr. B isn't even a travel writer. Presumably Mr. A. comp'ed the trip in the hope of good publicity, but it sounds like he didn't deliver a trip that merited it.

I agree, if the trip had been a fabulous success free praise would have been heaped on Mr A and his trip. But Mr B knows he cannot sell his soul for a freebie, since when has Mr B over looked the truth to his fellow travellers?. Did Mr A make Mr B sign a contract?

Mr A took a chance and he blew it, if it had been me i would have made sure that trip was the best thing ever.... how about those poor saps who paid for a crap holiday/near death experience!!! I would be devastated.

One must look at the offer of the freebie to determine the nature of any obligation that may have arisen. If there was a specific request for Mr. B to report back to Mr. A on the happenings on the trip, then an aura of confidentiality attaches to that report. This is not because it was a freebie, but a condition established prior to the trip. If there was no specific request, but a simple offer of a freebie then no confidentiality attaches and Mr. B is free to report on his findings to whomever he chooses.

I want you to tell all, but in the larger scope of right and wrong, I humbly suggest that the above analysis might provide some guidance.

Mr. Panda, are you saying that if I give you (or sell you) my publicly available product and in return ask you to tell me what you think of it, you have incurred an obligation not to discuss my product with anyone else?

"If there was a specific request for Mr. B to report back to Mr. A on the happenings on the trip, then an aura of confidentiality attaches to that report." Well, I'm no lawyer, but that doesn't make sense to me. Yes, in that case he would be obligated to make a report to Mr. A, but I don't see how it restricts him from making a separate report to other interested parties.

In brief. I'll respond properly later.

In the abstract, we can assume that there was no specific request for reportage. Mr. B would have taken that on as a matter of courtesy. His stated role was simply to jolly everybody along and divert the paying punters from the imminent horrors of the voyage.

Well, that sure didn't work.

"Well, that sure didn't work." - LOL! I can't imagine anyone who knew you expecting it to.

Was asking the unaccompanied ladies to dance also part of your role?

No specific request, tell all with nary a second thought. One assumes Mr. A provides these trips to "punters" for a profit. Therefore, a courtesy of confidentiality does not apply. The hypothetical request for a report did not occur, so sorting out whether that would have brought about an aura of confidentiality is moot.

For example, if the Metropolitan Opera had given you tickets gratis, would you feel constrained to openly report that the Opera stank? Of course not. You would feel free to shout about it.

Well, that will teach you to take a freebie Dogster. That's lesson No. 1.

You are not the type of person who should owe anyone anything or be constrained by a gentlemen's agreement, however vague.

Can you find your e-mails by Googling? If so, I believe Mr. Panda Esq. is correct that the chicken is out of the coup and e-mails are now fair game.

Besides, what if Mr. A has already written about what a disaster his own trip was? It's now public information. The real outrage is that he subsequently reported that all the kinks had been worked out and now everything's hunky dory. You apaprently have some information that this is hogwash. You are doing a public service if you know it's not true. On the other hand, if you have no first-hand knowledge that subsequent trips remain disasters, you can't say that.
Do you want more freebies with Mr. A? Do you fear being black-balled as a paying customer on other trips? Those are different questions.
I say Give 'em Muck.

Let me add:
While I'm disturbed by the freebie part (forgive me, but I know LOTS about this, and it's not pretty), given the lack of credible, honest information about travel I'd hate to see one of our most forthcoming and articulate reporters be silenced.

If information was shared by Mr. A to Mr. B in confidence, in e-mails or private conversations, then that information must always be kept in confidence, regardless of the outcome of the trip. On the other hand, it's not a case of "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," once the trip was completed unless an agreement to that effect was made in advance, "I'll give you a free trip if you promise not to complain in exchange for said trip." This is a a case for Randy Cohen, the ethics columnist for the NYTimes.

Nobody, alas, has ever given me a free trip, nor are they likely to, but if they had I wouldn't consider that they had thereby bought either a good review or silence. A free trip buys publicity, but if you don't deliver a good trip you shouldn't get a good review.

It's a fascinating conundrum, isn't it? I want to thank you all for your considered input here. Very thoughtful and instructive. I hope you'll forgive me if I don't debate it or clarify further. This is food for serious thought.

I think we all know exactly what I'm talking about - so, at least, this'll explain the mysterious gap in the Dogologue - and, as you'll note, my reluctance to give any hints up until now. It's been just under three months since the trip. I still veer between anger and... err.. anger. lol.

But a good scribe knows to cleanse his soul of vengeance before setting pen to paper. Mr. B still likes the newly-retired Mr. A. But then Mr. B looks at the BS, strategic forgetfulness and the downright lies on a certain website and a part of him rankles.

So, I'm going to think, go through your posts very carefully and decide what to do - if anything.

Of course, the above example is only part of the picture. There was a lot, lot more to conjure with - some of which I don't feel too restrained about discussing. The freebie wasn't a blanket coverage. It was for P. costs only. [I'm avoiding using the 'P' word, Google search being what it is]

Mr. B did pay all the land costs for his 'excursions', for his growing hotel bills during the 'trip' [they grew exponentially as the trip became shorter and shorter]; he did have to tolerate the other passengers [and they him] and hasn't the slightest hesitation in passing comment on any of that.

Nor do I have any hesitation in providing the interesting parts of some of MY E-mails to Mr. A - particularly as they were disseminated widely amongst his staff. I own them. His replies may not be appropriate copy.

I may choose not to provide full disclosure on what I KNOW was actually going on; but anything in the public domain is up for grabs.

It's worth knowing that Mr. A actually 'lost control' [his words]of the company in this unknown country. I owe his partners nothing but a punch in the face. I hate being lied to - and they are Professional Liars. Sub-continental scum.

I don't lie [the cause of much grief in my life]. I don't lie to you and I don't lie to anybody. Ask me a question and I'll tell you what I think, no fear, no favor. I hope you can sense that.

I will omit, however. Gawd, I would've been banned from Fodor's years ago if I provided FULL disclosure of Dogster's adventures in Paradise. But I think there are some areas of life that are my business.



Some would say I've already crossed that line many times - they don't realise just how much worse the omitted information is. lol lol lol.

There is also such a thing as tale-telling. 'Ging-gang-gooly, gooly whatcha, ging gang goo...' sitting round the camp-fire telling a story. Extraneous detail ruins many a trip report in here. Nobody cares what I had for breakfast. Nobody cares how I got there or how I left. Most of the time, I've learnt, nobody even cares where I WAS - they want a story with a beginning, a middle and, if there is one, a big finale.

In a previous life, this is what I learnt. That knowledge served me extremely well.

I know that the Dogologues are a 'never-ending story'. I guess we'll get to the big finale eventually. I suspect it'll be a note sent in by a friend telling you that Dog was boiled alive and eaten by a tribe of Hottentots. Well, top that. lol.

But not yet. I want to be around for the applause... and the royalty cheque. So don't get out the champagne till I tell you.

Yes, it was a big lesson, LA. Never, never, never take a freebie - even without conditions attached. What a bloody minefield. I'll not do that again.

One thing that did rankle me was the loss of my $1000 deposit when, at the conclusion of the awfulness, I cancelled the same trip in March 2010 I was going to PAY for. Not only did they screw it up the first time, but then I was penalised for refusing to do it again on MY $$. But they don't care, nor did they even reply.

If I include that outrage, four nights paid hotels in Kolkata while the boat was broken down, lost bookings and flights in and from Varanasi - where I never actually ended up, that 'freebie' actually cost me about 60% of what the paying punters coughed up. Then I was poisoned in Patna.

Recently I got yet another promotional E-mail from the company. Here is my response:

'Guys, stop sending me this stuff. After that last horrible trip you've lost a good friend and a long time customer - big time. I ain't coming back. Ever, anywhere. So, drop me off your list, please. I don't need any reminders.

Good luck. Goodbye.'


I meant it. Smell those bridges burning?

So the story is starting to unfold...

I do sense that you don't lie - anyone that would describe their priapic condition upon be woken one morning in Kolkata (Complete Works of Dogster, Volume XIV) could never tell a lie.

Did they refund your money for the inaugural trip which you didn't take?

I moved that to the March booking, Marija. Otherwise I would've lost it, just the same. Cancellation = loss of deposit. They are covered every which way. No recourse. No responsibility. They can change the schedule, travel in circles, abandon the routing, screw up in every which way, probably even kill you and there's nothing you can do.

A glimpse at the booking conditions on a certain website reveals all.

Caveat emptor. It's always good to know. It rankles, as I said - but really, I'd willingly pay money NOT to travel on that again. That was my choice.

I just read Andrea Massari's blog about your trip on the certain website. I assume you didn't join in the 30 minutes of laughter when the bus narrowly escaped the collision...

Hilarious, eh?

'The journey was thrilled by an encounter with another bus that almost caused an accident. I was sitting in the front seat and all of a sudden we were shocked to see another bus just 3cm from our window and on the other side there was just 10cm gap to the edge of the road...'

There was another serious near-miss in the dark on the way back.

Luckily I wasn't there for the 4 hour transfer from Patna [where the trip ground to a halt] when the driver took the wrong road and delivered the passengers to their Varanasi hotel 14 hours later.

Fun, fun, fun.

I, too, read the Blog. Pure fluff. This is why self-serving posts are more than useless. They are totally misleading. Do you think the blogger is aware that 3 cm is only slightly more than an inch. Yikes. We rely on canine accuracy.

When an Operations Director describes an incident that could have killed or maimed a busload of passengers as "thrilling," there's something very, very wrong...

The blogger knows precisely how far 3 cm is. It's the distance between life and death.

It's also worth knowing that one passenger lasted precisely four days on the maiden voyage. Which puts another blog in a new perspective...

Oh I am enjoying this already, perverse as that sounds.

Isn't there a movie here? A raucous black comedy. Lots of politically incorrect thickly accented characters of the subcontinental type. Pompous pommies on board. Hapless lead to be played by, dunno, Bill Nighy?
Being a man of Scots persuasion, Mr. A has found a way to keep your money. It's in his DNA. But you got that other cruise so cheap, it all evens out maybe. But maybe someone's trying to tell you something: Don't get on another boat!
You're a dog after my own heart, sir.
Tangata must be enjoying this...

"Priapic"??? Whoa!

John Cleese as the cruise director.

It is rather Fawlty Towers-ish, isn't it? It could be done as a series on the Beeb, with Dogster writing. A sort of black farce Love Boat. Most scenes take place in the boat's bar. I can do a good Cockney accent and pratfalls if there's any character like that. Pretty good with Peter Sellers-like Indian accent too.
I noticed priapic too. Show-off!

Full of characters names Penelope, Priscilla, Ian and my favorite Bertram. Hugh Laurie in his younger years.

Well, having read the blog and dogster's hints, I'm ready for the full story, no holds barred!

Perhaps a "play within a play" wherein to catch the conscience of a cruise line?

I just finished reading Amy Tan's SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING about clueless Americans abroad in Burma but this promises to be even better...

We've sailed with Dogster and his companions many times, laughing all the way. I think that this time the passengers are in harm's way due to incompetence and stupidity, making the dog very angry and casting a dark shadow even on the hilarious aspects of the cruise...

That's why I said "black" Marija. But the best way to avenge the incompetence is through satire. But time needs to pass as Dogster wisely points out.

Our Dog has deep loyalties. He feels this loyality to his host/friend. I see the quandy in different terms. Dog's followers (and I am one) expect both interesting adventure stories which we may, or may not want to emulate, and good advice about trips, hotels, restaurants, cruises, guides, drivers, etc. that we would follow. We know that some trips, hotels, restaurants, cruises are not ones that Dogster's followers would enjoy. We expect our leader to let us know which are good and which are good to avoid. Otherwise, there I will be with my three darling grandaughters and their parents on a holiday in India or Nepal and when things are not going well, I will be asked if I am following the advice of that someone from Fodors that I have find so clever and interesting and knows the best places to go.

lol lol great responses from you all.

This is written in haste: I'm on the move today. I forget where. Net access may be difficult - or easy. Time will tell. Packing.

Wonderful thread to stumble on during a moment of insomnia. Memories for me since the '70's. Nepal can make you stupid. Sure I can stuff a blob of hash into my climbing boot for a souvenir. Take it home. Through Thailand. They never check me. I stayed in the Hotel Courtyard, or one just like it. Before trip advisor. I threw up there. Still it was a nice hotel.

Looks like we've all been taken for a ride by another whippersnapper. The OP vanishes, leaving us to ponder his/her fate...

There has been a Dogster sighting outside a seedy bordello in deepest Patpong. Apparently a man answering to his name was chased into the street and beaten to a pulp by over 300 lady-boys, angry at his refusal to commit to a new lifestyle as Dogalina, the ugliest transvestite in Bangkok.

He escaped and fled to LeMeridien where he may, or may not be hidden in room 1803. He won't come out, claiming writer's block.

Soon, The Ghost Who Walks will go home, wherever that is. In the meantime, while he can stay in the very, very nice LeMeridien for 2,900 baht [US$89.50] a night on latestays.com, he says he ain't going nowhere.

www.lemeridienhotelbangkok.com

Nice - such a great deal on the hotel room should un-block the writer. Just order a bottle of wine.

Some deal. It pays to travel on a whim and without baggage of the human kind to weigh you down.

OMG. Just realized one clue above, "rhymes with clever", was totally wrong! Don't know what I was thinking. Was my brain gassed or did I eat bad chicken? Dogster must be chuckling.

Rhymes with fragile, sorta.

Yup! Thought you had it wrong and were rhyming with Trevor...

I have some form of short-circuit in my brain. I cannot do crosswords. I've never done a crossword in my life. Really. Too much left brain, too much right...? I can't remember which is which. I look at the clues and they mean absolutely nothing. Zero.

So, I've been puzzling over 'rhymes with clever' for a week. Now I discover that I was led astray.

Now I'm confounded by 'rhymes with fragile, sorta...'

I have no idea what anybody is talking about.

Well, the freebie was given for you to see and spy so you should report exactly what you saw no matter how bad it was, he needs the correct feedback if he's to right the wrongs.

And I did Clark, to him.

I had to choose my words very carefully, however, because it became rapidly clear that my personal E-mails were being bounced straight back, slightly edited, to those concerned. I'd drop him a note about XYZ drama that nobody wanted to tell him about [he was half a world away] then wake up next day to 'You made Mr. A very angry last night...'

I was in a no-win situation, whatever I did. I'd give him the correct feedback, he'd react in his usual volatile fashion, fire off an immediate E-mail to fix it, then I'd get the blame. It was pretty clear where the information was coming from.

You can imagine the dynamics in a confined situation. Actually, it became acutely difficult, easily one of the most uncomfortable positions I've been placed in. So, what was my option? Stay silent, complicit in the dangerous incompetence or continue to be Deep Throat? It didn't occur to me that someone would put me in that situation. In my code of ethics such an event simply couldn't happen. Obviously I'm very, very naive.

I guess the issue most concerning me was whether to pass those reflections on to a greater public via my reports in here, although the more I write about it here the less of an issue that is becoming. As a matter of fact, quite the reverse. I've worked out the ethics [more or less] but am still trying to find a way to tell the story.

At least this post is helping me unravel the situation. There's layer after layer of it. So far, I've only mentioned a fraction of it. I was the only one without an agenda, trying to cling to the last shreds of the higher moral ground. All around me were clawing, lying, trying to save their pride, their jobs and their status.

Dogs ate Dog.

dogster, LALeslie and Marija: Ditto my response to what rhymes with "clever" and "fragile." Youth wants to know! What is this??

I'm glad I am not the only one who has spent far too much time trying to figure out the "clever" rhyme. I thought I am the only one who is not clever.

Whatever rhymes with what is irrelevant. let sleeping dogs lie. If Dogster wants us to know he will say so.

What Nywoman said. In spades.

yes.

I don't think Dogster knows either.

Right you are Marija. Don't worry, I would never, ever out the cur. But he is like J.S. Salinger, so mysterious that, ironically, he invites speculation and sniffing about. Besides, I may be utterly utterly wrong in my amateur sleuthing. But methinks the Dogster protests too much.

And Dogster, I had no inkling this was going on while you were in transit. What a scandal! What betrayal! What a coward!Forget ethics. Mr. A is below that it seems.

Just wondering if I could ask the sleuths to zip it up a bit. I have been enjoying the privilege of reading Dogsters accounts of his travels since the beginning of his writing endeavors here. He is remarkably generous in sharing his writing – with humor, unrestrained honesty, and a keen wit I admire.
So – the sleuthing is distracting and more than a bit rude I believe. You are looking in the host’s medicine cabinet after enjoying a superb meal. The writers here all weigh in with as little or much anonymity as they choose to have – please don’t spoil it for the rest of it by making one of our favorite writers uncomfortable.
Dogster – I apologize if I have spoken out of turn on your behalf, but it seems that you have already politely asked once or twice.
I look forward to whatever tale comes next from whatever unique perspective you find your self in. Much appreciated.

Are you uncomfortable Dogster?

Hey, let the Wizard of Oz stay safely behind the curtain, please. I hereby call for no more peeking. We are not only honor bound to do so, it is the only way to keep the dogologue sparkling fresh.

There have been too many clues already and the internet makes it much too easy to rob someone of cherished anonymity.

What say ye?

'...You are looking in the host’s medicine cabinet....'

What a perfect analogy tron - and thank you so much for your very kind words.

Yes! I am uncomfortable with this. Acutely so. Alas, the cat seems to have escaped from the bag. I'm not sure I can stuff kitty back in. Even a glimpse of me undermines the multiple personae I've adopted to suit the stories. Dog can be anyone you want. The more you know, the less power the words have. A sharp, long-term reader may even note that Mr. Dogster features less and less in the stories, unless it's to take the piss out of himself. I scarcely present him as a role model.

I don't believe there is a single occasion in all my many words where I've revealed anything I haven't chosen to about my past life. The more I travel, the more I realise it was just a forgotten chapter in an undistinguished, selfish existence. I've just chosen to move on, big time, for my own mental health. 'Sunset Boulevard' is not going to be the story of my latter life.

I have nothing to do with anyone from those days. It's the primary reason I stay away from home. Those people gave new depth to shallow. The self-absorbtion, rank ignorance and casual cruelty of that scene still boggles me. Multiply that by Australia and you have a recipe for a self-satisfied, parochial emptiness. It's no coincidence that most of that continent is desert.

In the latter, more commercial years of my career I met and worked with some of the most horrible people in creation. That I was so much part of it, just as shallow, just as self-absorbed, just as cruel, appals me.

But I've forgiven myself. Or rather, had forgiveness battered into me. Perhaps even a shallow wisdom followed - not that anybody wants to listen to any of it. Except, maybe, occasionally, in here.

If I could I would delete all the clues, but that would make this post a complete gibberish. I've been wrestling with this somewhat - particularly in relation to one particular contribution. Not only was it written in a lousy parody of my style, it was dumped in the middle of my carefully chosen words like a turd in a florists shop. The casual reader will read through, thinking I wrote it. That worries me just as much. So, you see, I still exhibit the sins of pride.

Of course, what is good for the goose is good for the gander. So I've resisted asking for that particular post to be deleted. Ethics again. But I'm having serious second thoughts. It may go.

It's becoming clear that I'm the only person left alive with any moral compass. Witness the minefield of Mr. A and Mr. B. However, I'm perfectly aware that my Magnetic North is dramatically different from that of others. Most of our Western ethics are merely a product of the last hundred or so years, clung to by fools incapable of making up their own mind, desperate to be part of the pack. They lock in and smother anybody who thinks differently. Of course, they win. Culture creates morality. In a different culture there is a different moral norm. So who is right? Well, actually, nobody.

I decided not to be smothered. It's a solitary road. I can't carry baggage.

Dog, don't go back into hiding... if we happen to be in BKK at the same time, that is. Would love to have a beer at Maeng's again. But to all that other "clue" stuff... it goes in one ear and out the other. Anonymity (sp) it is!!!

Maeng isn't herself these days. Hope you'll stop by. She needs some cheering up.

C

Dear Mr. Dogster,

For this reader, you are mr. dogster, the one who writes so eloquently and even lovingly of global issues and tiny absurdities, of the human condition and the human tendency to be a pain in the posterior. It doesn't matter even a tiny bit who you are/were; we've all been lots of different people at different times, I think. I hope you come to the conclusion that you can continue here, but if not, blessings on your journey and thanks for your wonderful words.

Sincerely,
Amy
who, in one life, worked at a florist shop and did not appreciate turds

It is the reporting of your metaphysical baggage that we find so amusing. I'm afraid that this is not so easily put aside. Not only do you manage to find fascinating alleys in your journeys, but your delicate prose casts some brief light into the most shadowy corners. We like to think of you as the Diogenes of Fodors. Looking for an honest Jimmy.

Oh, I'm not going to disappear Amy. I just wanted you all to know where I was coming from, that's all. Often I surprise MYSELF by what I write. This whole incredible post, covering life, art, ethics and the endless circle of Kathmandu has unblocked the drain. I'm so glad you all gave me the chance to unravel the multiple truths of my latest, oddest experience and gain the benefit of your multiple opinions.

And now that we have reached the mystical number: an amazing 200 - fittingly a slot taken by the great Gpanda - it's time to tell you what happened.

Look! Up on the left! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No-o-o-o, it's Dogster: The Bihar Blues.

Yes, I noticed and am saddened that Dogster has ceded center stage in his tales. I miss him...

How can anyone think that the offending post was written by Dogster?! It's pretty clear that the author is someone you bumped into on the road and gave a sanitized version of your life. One adjective in particular gives it away. Vaporize if you wish. No moral dilemma here.

To Laleslie: Pleeease do not compare this narcissus with J.D. Salinger (NOT J.S. Salinger). This Mr. Bombast Narcissus is closer to Jerry Springer or Lady Gaga. Also, little was mysterious about Salinger - he simply did not do interviews which led the media to attach the moniker of a recluse.

Whoa...I pop back in after another road trip...and what to my wondrous eyes did appear.....

Hey D - I'll just toss in my two cents here as you have very, very questionably appointed me in the role as an adviser of yours - probably in a altered state of consciousness (not sure if that's yours, mine or both hahaha).

You have every right to pull the plug on any of your reports here without a second thought or explanation and its perfectly OK to be self-serving in this context. You owe us nothing more than that which you wish to voluntarily offer.....and if/when you change your mind, So Be It - Period. When someone throws a right cross at you, you have every right to protect yourself and deflect it rather than take it on the chin.

You deserve to leave your past lives behind and not be typecast if you so choose -not be encumbered by that baggage and start anew. We Fodorites, most of whom claim to be your friend or at least admirers of your literary talent, have no right to deprive you of that out of curiosity, to prove how clever we are or for any other self-serving reason.

As tyro (Bravo! for your excellent post btw) so aptly stated "you have already politely asked once or twice"....for the amateur sleuthing to cease. I, my friend, would have been much more blunt - but you are more of a gentleman apparently than I haha.

If it is any consolation, I personally have no bleeping clue who you once played in this movie we call life. It is all an illusion anyway in my philosophy. Just here to play our roles - learn our lessons - and then move on.

If I have inadvertently stepped on some toes...well.....I make NO apologies. If I were able to make my opinions known confidently to you D I would have done so - but such is not the case.

Enough of this nonsense. Have this thread deleted my silver tongued friend, go play your new role and have yourself another of life's adventures.

Say...any news from the family, Mom, Dad and little Sausage in....Varnasi was it?

Just to clarify:

I was never thinking of pulling the WHOLE thread - just one post in it, way, way back, that's all. I think the issues covered in this topic are way too interesting to chuck away. Obviously my words weren't precise enough.

Catch up:

Oh, merkxxx, good to see you in here again. You make me laugh. But you do just run in, do a pooh and run away again. That's not very brave. Are you trying to be pithy? Why not engage? Ahhh, I just read through your brief history of topic posts in the Lounge. Now I understand a little bit more.

It would be cruel of me to take you on - it's not my job to point out the obvious. Come in any time you like, slag away - but I would ask that you actually READ what I say first rather than just be pissed off that I simply exist.

becalm, thank you yet again. You never know when Dog will communicate... of course, your considered correspondence will deserve a considered reply. Those replies take a lot of time to write so, while I'm in a transmitting mode, I'm staying focussed on the next story, that's all.

Just trying to stay on top of this thread is complex enough - it HAS covered a lot of ground. The ethical dilemmas have preoccupied me, stopped me writing - now, somehow I've found the key.

I'm waiting for the moment to start the next one, in fact I wrote the first slab today, but I've been thinking it'll be hogging the board if I bring it in while this one is current. I had no idea we'd end up with 200 + posts. It just keeps coming.

Altho', second thoughts, maybe if I begin it, that'll divert us from this one. I've talked enough about myself, ethics and yesterday for now.

As for little Sausage in Varanasi: well, I was headed there in November to follow up. All was booked and planned. When you read the next story you'll learn why I never arrived.

Hog away Dogster..it's all interesting reading.

O.K. Watch.

As I said above, I'm done teasing. Don't think I was the one who gave anything away anyway. It's true that stories can get undermined somewhat by glimpses of the writer. But you underestimate the power of your words, Sri Dogster.

merckxxx, of course I know it's J.D.; simple typo. Sorry, but frankly, he was much more of a narcissist (a trendy armchair anyalysis thrown around ad nauseum these days) than the Dog. Why not just stop reading him if he annoys you so much? Hmmm?

dog... my advice... wtach out for the lounge!!!! It can be a dangerous place for posters such as yourself, who speak the truth about your adventures. Be veddy veddy careful in there...
C

Anybody confused about the disappearing Bihar post should just wait. I deleted it after the cowardly cyber-attack. It will return. Terrorists never win in the long run.

I was just wondering where that was gone....
shame these trolls get in the way of a great story.

Promises, promises... I'm still holding my breath for:

"Dogster's battle with the Lal Ghat Sub-branch of the Udaipur Mafia has not quite reached its conclusion. On the assumption I live till the morning - which will occur only if I stay indoors till it's time to leave for Delhi tomorrow - I will tell you everything."

I'm waiting...

Figured that Dogster. Good for you. Tho I wondered if you'd given him/her some satisfaction by removing it. I'll always wonder if it was some Brit on the Ganges cruise, but I think your theory about the long-time seething lurker is better.

This looks like fun .. bookmarking for later reading. Thanks Dogster

Dogster,

I haven’t met you yet but I’m presumptuous enough to say I will this October. I dare you.

TheWho best describes the theatre and during the peak tourist season in Michelle and Pujan’s beautiful oasis, one will find a multi-cultural performance by the worthiest social justice crusaders, ambitious trekkers, dedicated outreach participants, and solo travelers who’ve dreamed of visiting Nepal their whole lives. Disarmed by easy smiles and a perpetual happy hour there’s no choice but to submit to the varied conversations – global politics, social entrepreneurial ideas, trekking adventures/mishaps, etc. The evenings are coordinated by the best host combo ever, Michelle and Pujan! Pujan will make dinner for the hotel family and serve you himself, and let me tell you (along with hundreds of other guests lucky enough), the imported Australian beef tips are enough to convert almost any vegetarian/ Hindu. The pinnacle is the 30+ person dinners at the Thamel House (walking distance from the Hotel and historical hotspot). With 16 courses of authentic Newari cuisine, a stage with traditional dancers, Pujan’s knife slice to the champagne bottle (always a toast!), and curious clay cups, the fun begins again. From 3 ft. in the air, a mysterious liquid is poured into those mini clay cups, and well, it’s described as Ella – the most formidable woman yet of the Hotel Courtyard experience (a locally made alcohol). The first swallow is the most difficult but when the Irish are always (yes, always) challenged to prove their drinking capabilities, the 20th Ella shot is quite nice, sweet actually. Usually dancing by the 30+ guests onstage follows (generally awkward) and sometimes, just sometimes, there’s a dance party back in the movie room back at the hotel . . . the lovely Christy (and Akon music) can be credited for these amazing times! I wouldn’t suggest your Everest flight the morning after.

Did you know there’s a daily Monkey Temple walk led by Pujan followed by a cook-to-order breakfast? Yummy - Indian omelets, banana pancakes, sausage/bacon sides, French toast. Bring it on, Hyatt! I ask “where are your mosaics” made by women that have been sex-trafficked and then rescued/empowered by possibly the best NGO in Nepal, the Esther Benjamin Memorial Foundation? Where is your clientele that does monumental work across the globe but wears t-shirts and has a smile/conversation for everyone? Nothing the Hyatt has can parallel the friendships, collaboration efforts, and experiences that the beautiful hostess, Michelle has dedicated herself to providing for her guests aka friends.

Dogster, I think an October trip needs calendared. Within my stay I have met and stayed in touch with some very amazing people from ALL over the world and accomplishing great things. I’d vote a good portion of guests are coming to Nepal for a specific experience and when there is an armada of these intelligent, accomplished, and varied personality-type characters, the quest is fulfilled and Michelle’s home becomes a birthing spot for life-long friendships. I eagerly await the first couple that meets there and becomes life-long partners!

Btw – did you hear about some of the guests that have stayed there recently - the world champion Siberian swimmer, the 72 year-old NGO leader who climbed to EBC, the crazy that trekked to Kala Pattar in a dress, the exec responsible for over 70 schools built in Nepal, the Hawaiian creating/implementing low-cost LED village lighting? And you’d never know unless you asked them directly what they do/did (you will find them challenging the Irish with Ella shots at Thamel House – guaranteed!). . . this is why I love the people and the experiences at the Hotel Courtyard, beyond ALL of the décor, ambiance, library, yoga studio, tuna sammies, there are amazing people to meet. I dunno, but connectivity in this fragmenting world is pretty encouraging. Thanks Michelle, Pujan, and well, racist Tibby! Please Dogster, you at least have to be a Tibby fan!!!

XOXOX, see ya in Nepal in October. . if you're lucky!

lol lol lol.

Yes, I know all that. I was there. It's precisely because of the other 113 enthusiastic reviews like yours in Tripadvisor, I went. Did you somehow read in my words that I didn't like it? Knowing that my every sentence would be examined minutely by the owners, the other guests, Uncle Tom Cobbley and all, then subjected to attack, parody or derision, I decided to leave the gush to others. Just like you. I've been hoping that someone would come in and say just what you have. With luck, more will follow.

There'd be no point in Dog coming in to Fodor's and repeating these comments ad nauseum:

www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g293890-d797710-Reviews-Hotel_Courtyard-Kathmandu.html#REVIEWS

My words: '...The multiple characters of the hotel were so gripping I had to force my own way out the door. I was living in an endless Andy Warhol movie with no plot, set nowhere, achieving nothing; engrossed in the Big Brother house with a rotating cast of Fabulous Nobodies – including, most definitely, me...'

For confused onlookers, Tibby is the hotel dog.

Since you mentioned it - this small, fluffy, killer Mongrel from Hell has been trained to attack anything Nepalese. The poor thing is mentally disturbed, having been tortured by multiple mosaic-making N.G.O's. It nearly ate Romy, the Tuk-tuk Goose, turning into a snarling, salivating, crazed banshee time-bomb, intent on his blood. It leaps at the throat of any passing Nepali like a shrunken Hound of The Baskervilles, only pacified by a kick to the head. I thought it should be put down - better still, sacrificed, barbequed and eaten instead of the 'imported Australian beef...'

lol lol lol.

'...The pinnacle is the 30+ person dinners at the Thamel House...'

The pinnacle of the pinnacle are the other 30+ guests, NOT, most definately the food or the venue. Thamel House is a tourist trap, hurtling course after course of inedible muck at a table full of great companions so completely pooh-faced after their millionth clay cup of petrol - sorry 'Ella' - that the poor sods wouldn't know if they were eating rat's claws, dog's vomit or 'authentic Newari cuisine'.

lol lol lol. Since you mentioned it.

I didn't write about Michelle - because I knew she'd be reading. Heh. I didn't write about Pujan, because he wasn't there. I didn't write about his morning rambles to the Monkey Temple, 'cos, even if he had been there, I would've been hibernating under the squash-me-flat doonas in room 401. I didn't write about it in peak season, because I was there in the depths of winter. I didn't write about how bloody, bloody, bloody cold it was, because mine hostess upgraded me to a really warm suite - otherwise, little bits of Dog would have fallen off from frostbite. But I did write about 'the crazy that trekked to Kala Pattar in a dress': forty-two of them, I believe.

You should write the copy for their website. You have a good turn of phrase. You are absolutely right about the fellow guests. As I said, 'flawed, but fabulous'. Me included.

'...I eagerly await the first couple that meets there and becomes life-long partners!...'

Kimmy, honey - I think that might well be you and me...

Thank you for your post. Big smooch from your husband-to-be.

Today it's simple: I like you. Yay!

1. I'm "the crazy in the dress" and there's only 1 of me (I know, sad sad . . I should be cloned - jk!)
2. Ella = petrol, you are A-on-spot with that! Ahhh, but by the 20th, it really does have a sweet taste. . . and the trick at the Thamel House is to pretend to be a vegetarian - the food is MUCH better
3. See ya in Nepal! XO

I forgot one thing: My arch nemesis in life is p-o-o-p. Yes, I know, odd but still true. Unfortunately in Nepal, there is p-o-o-p (I spell it instead of saying it) everywhere!!! Yaks, Monkeys, dogs, people, insects, whatever. . it's just all over. Hmm, I signed back on just to write this. O boy. I quit!

lol lol lol. We're made for each other.

Anybody else reading should take my wife-to-be as an indication of the calibre of the guests Live On Stage at the Hotel Courtyard!

This has taken an interesting turn. Dogster is engaged! To the whack job trekker in the dress!

Are we all invited to the wedding? One shudders to think who they will get to perform the service.

(Sung in an Aussie accent)

Oym gettin' married in Octoba
Ding dong the bells are gonna chime
Pull out the stupa,
Let's have a whoopah,
But get me to the church on time!

Ahhh Ms LAleslie, hahha, I love it!!! heehee, this is fun, but I'm going to dare you too, to meet in Nepal in October. XO. BTW, did you know Kimberly Jones is also Lil Kim?? Just in case anyone tried to Google me. . . Tibby IS gross, but cute at the same time. . . f it, he's a dog! Dogster????

I was also drunk when I wrote the last remark. I had a bottle of wine to replace my normal 3 cups of coffee for the day. I know that doesn't make sense, but well, it's just me. And, I'm dating an Aussie now, so darling and kudos to the song. XO

kimmy, you wouldn't be the first poster in Fodor's to share their altered state with the public. It's one of the glories of the internet. Given my history of writing under the influence, I'll be the last one to point the finger of scorn. Quite the reverse.

I'm really glad you came in, drunk or sober. It's like a little breath of the Courtyard, live in cyberspace.

I'll just go off and sing LA's song a few more times. My bridal gown is nearly ready. These Bangkok tailors are amazing. Lollipop Pink suits me.

I love pink! I'll wear black then. Dogster, speaking of, there are 2 other medical/dental camps I know of in October. We may organize a school-building/dental-medical/LED Village lighting outreach if things progress as planned. . do you know anyone that might be interested? Besides you of course - I don't want to get stood up! I have more details if you want them but gathering the troops as of now. Cost = outreach cost only => additional monies for charities are at the discretion of the donor. Yay - that's as clean as it can get financially! Holla!

Hahaha, lots of rain in the US. Talk soon!

xoxo

Went to see Present Laughter by Noel Coward tonight. Nothing to do with Kathmandu but everything to do with Dogster and now Kimmeyjones. Loved every bon mot and second of it.

'...We may organize a school-building/dental-medical/LED Village lighting outreach if things progress as planned...'

Well, why not add in a bit of cranio-facial surgery as well, Kimmy? I have as much expertise in that as I do in school-building, dentistry and medical care, althought the thought of some Nepali village lit up in L.E.D's strangely appeals to me.

Perhaps power for the LED's might be a problem, but we can fund an old lady to pedal a bicycle for that. Indeed, we can staff a whole office full of N.G.O's to make sure she gets her monthly 100 rupee stipend.

Here's a thought - instead of descending on a village full of unwitting Nepalis in a frenzy of philanthropy, how about we all cancel our trips; send the money from the airfares, the pre-and post 'outreach' accommodation at the Hotel Courtyard, the horrible food at Thamel House and the 2,000 clay cups of petrol we'll all drink in a frenzy of self-congratulation - then donate the lot?

But alas my darling Kittylitter, I'm en route to 'Straya tonight. I won't be able to respond to your cyber-lerve for a while. The bustling, electric night-life of down-town Melbourne calls me.

Once in its thrall I'll descend into my customary despair, words of more than one syllable will desert me and self-immolation will seem an attractive option.

As a matter of fact, I'll just douse myself with gasoline right now and get it over with...

Dog lights match.

Vro-o-o-o-omph!

He's gone.

Up at 3 a.m.? You must need some sleep, Dog, so one's own bed and a bit of peace and quiet calls, no? Even Melbourne boredom must be appealing at times. And you can quickly escape again.

I had zero-ed in on that "outreach" description, too, but your comments had me doubled over with laughter. I assume these people are serious. You can't make this stuff up. The world has gone stark ravng looney tunes. There are more dog and cat rescue outfits in Los Angeles now than shelters for humans.

dog, i didn't know there was gasoline with enough octane to singe a hair on your chinny chin chin. lol

(I LOVE ALL OF THIS! . . and I am falling into your trap aka posting) Ahhh, I totally understand what you are saying! I understand the newest "adventure philanthropy" crusades - another way to make money (or get a tax credit), feel good and often be a source of false hope into communities. However, I'll defend my post and fiercely because I've met some amazing leaders in organizations where the motivations, operational models, and results are real and refreshing in this groaning world. Here are three off the top of my head:
www.ebt.org.uk (prevention/action toward child-trafficking- also the source of the mosaics in the Hotel Courtyard dining room), www.buildon.org (sweat equity required for their assistance) , and betterlight.wordpress.com (you're LED buddies). Why not collaborate them if you can pull it off? They may be unusual bedfellows but if you don't throw it out there, then the worst will happen; NOTHING will get done because NOTHING was tried (they all work with specific foci-a binding agent is needed). Why not add in those Thamel nights to help offset yourself with a little fun because your whole day was spent helping at a refuge with 105 kids rescued from sex-trafficking in the circuses or babysitting Orange County peeps broadening their horizons (although some have VERY deviant motivations). I can tell you a personal story of people who are the most connected in our USofA and have never done ONE outreach until last year and let me tell you, they probably dropped 10-20k on their trip = air flights, the HYATT, and trekking equipment (outreach was medical/dental). I see exactly your view, but the problem is, people won't just give 10k instead of going AND you never know their resource pool. I can tell you that at least 2 out of last year's group are coming back this year to try to help and with the right intentions and more resources. Are they helping at the end-of-the-day? I hope so. . . It all started with an adventure-philanthropy-type of mission, it's the RIGHT organizations that are hard to find. I find your latest a post either a little thoughtless or a dangle to me for response (smile). I see the numbers at the bottom of the page too - overly generous, nicely stacked and calculated out into a generous tax break scheme, but not always. . .You met a few of The Formiddables at the Hotel Courtyard - lucky you. I'm just saying that while I can understand your logic I can also provide a thousand other reasons why it's just not enough as is. . . ahh, back to the theater and the characters. And for the cranial-facial, haha, I sat in on a phone call last summer where it was a realistic option for an outreach (cleft-palate) from the best plastic surgeons in the world - and funny enough,LA people - the ones who piss money into their pets. Scalability, Dogster, scalability.

Ahh, I forgot the fun part:

1. ENJOY MELBOURNE!!! Did you know they call us "seppos"
2. Our online relationship reminds me of the shape of the letter T
3. Kittylitter, I like it!!! Haha, I'd really love it but it reminds me of the word p-o-o-p. May I please add to my growing arsenal of nicknames? I've got "red skittle" for, well, I only eat the red ones and my face turns "red" after I consume alcohol (I'm Asian). I'm actually surprised you didn't give me Kimmylitter. AH hahha. . . XOOOO my dears!

Third time's the charm - the afterthought of the correction:

I was writing a little emotionally. . . GOOD (comprehensive and critical word here) outreaches/humanitarian works in my opinion are binary- touch point to resources for more & bottom line betterment for recipients.

If you read my first post we'll circle back to the "you'd never know unless you ask. .. " taking all the wind out of your counter-post per the outreach. No Ella (She gets a capital "E") toasts for their accomplishments rather directed toward the spirit of community/friendship so they can get through another day kinetically helping the helpless (thaaat, I cannot describe in writ Dogster, but you can come in October and experience with us)

Kittylitter took a scratch. . . at Kimmylitter's word vomit? Muah hah hah

Valentine's day draws near. Surely Dogster has reached Melbourne's sacred shores and will return to this thread to send an inimitable missive to his betrothed...

I too await words to the future Mrs. Ster. And I hope they are binary.

" . . . a binding agent is needed"??

Met an American woman in Delhi who has a plan to sell solar cooking stoves to people in north India in an effort to reduce air pollution. $600 a pop. Never gonna happen . . .

Haha, I think I scared him - it's ok, I did seem kinda crazy, but I'm still optimistic about October. It's hard to dissuade me. . .

Indianapearl
I spoke to some people in India about the solar cooking stoves and they agree it will never happen because the women like to cook on the fire as the chappatis dont get the same crispness from the solor oven, it is similar to cooking with a microwave.

I saw solar cooking stoves in Indonesia many places and the owners all said they were unreliable and took way too long to cook. But they could heat up water in small quantities.