Kathmandu, September 23, 2013

I stayed home to work on the computer and try to drum up some help with the machines and download some lists and protocols.  The computer system is slow, and through the day I experience several brown-outs.  When I finally finish, send off the emails to the various addresses I have located as possible sources of help, I try to print some lists to use in the OR and cannot get the printer to work.  I spend about an hour with the desk clerk trying to figure it out, get a couple of shocks from leakage current around the various over-plugged machines and outlet strips, and finally email my documents to the clerk for him to print at his desk.  He brings me my sheets and all that is clear is that the machine he used is almost out of ink.  What can one say – this is the kind of thing that happens in such a poor country.  Everyone does the best they can, and we must remain flexible.

I upload the blog I wrote in the middle of the night when I could not sleep, and some photos.  It is a luxury I am guilty taking, but the exercise of writing helps me process what we see and do, and is also an opportunity to share with my family what I am doing and possibly offer something of interest to my colleagues.  The more people can learn from our experiences, the more value our efforts can have.

At about 3pm I leave the hotel on foot for the first time.  I always love to walk these cities and get as close as I can to the smells, sights, and people.  There are dogs everywhere – that dingo hybrid that we see in most of this part of the world.  They are sweet and well-fed, wander everywhere, but seem to have no particular home or pack of people.  Some have collars; all have curious gazes.

As I pass down the street, I have to watch my step for mud and holes.  Occasionally a car comes by and the drivers are liberal with their horns.  Not obnoxious; just a “heads up” toot.  Every time I step out of the street to let a car by, I find myself in a store with a man who swears he is my best friend and has been waiting for the opportunity to give his wares away to me at a special price.  “Look, Ma’am, very special silk.”  “Look Ma’am, for your grandchildren.”  HEY! 

Ghurka knife stores, Buddhist art outlets, silk scarves and carvings.  Everything looks like it took a lot of work by hand, and everything is covered with dust and needs a wash.  All the vendors start bargaining to try to get in a barter, and it breaks my heart to not just open my wallet and give them all that I have.

I don't know what this bird is, but it resembles a raven in size, profile, and behavior.  Will have to look it up when I get home.  Black face, grey neck, and navy body.  Pretty.

I make it up to the main street, and don’t dare venture out.  The sidewalks are piled with stones that will someday be used to make sidewalks and finish the street shoulders, the dust and honking from unpredictable drivers are hazards in the street, and between watching where I step and watching the random zigzagging cars and motorbikes, who can sight-see?  So I return home and take a much-needed nap.

The rest of the team return home, have had a long day and about 1 ½ hour ride home because of various detours to take some of the hospital workers home, and they are very tired.  Nancy is working hard with Mohan all day making splints and seeing patients, and the others have been teaching.  We have a meal and retreat to our rooms.